The Princess and Me
by deepwater1978
Summary: I want to throw you back in my bed and never let you leave.
1. Chapter 1

_Oxford University_

 _Ten years ago_

Elena didn't want the night to end.

Yes, it was drizzling with a chill in the April air, but she was warm, tucked against the most extraordinary man—someone so honest and kind, and so grounded in his beliefs she just loved listening to him. Who would have thought that by coming to Oxford she would find a man who was so perfect for her?

It was funny how the world worked, how love found you when you least expected it.

Glancing at their joined hands, Elena imagined what her parents might say about Damon Salvatore, and she wondered if she could get them to see how good he had been for her. How he was strong and honest. Kind.

She wondered if how much she loved him would matter to them?

Her parents and her family exerted so much control over her life that she couldn't imagine them approving of her relationship with Damon. Yes, he was brilliant-well educated and honourable. But he wasn't of her station, and marrying well was all her parents ever wanted for their only daughter.

"Elena? What is wrong?" His voice was deep and clear. He sounded so sexy.

"Why do you think something is wrong?" she replied.

Damon smiled at her. "Because you usually talk my ear off and you have been very quiet. Is something on your mind?"

What would he do if she just told him the truth?

 _Damon, by the way, I have a secret to tell you. A really big secret._

Unfortunately she couldn't say those words.

 _Such a coward_ , Elena chided herself.

Since meeting him she had learned to see outside her own bubble. As so often the case growing up the way she did, Elena was the centre of the universe. Everything she did was watched, every want or need was satisfied, and it was all done without much thought to anyone else. Damon changed all that. He helped her see the big picture.

Being with Damon made her feel alive.

Looking up at him, his profile took her breath away the same as when she saw him for the first time. Damon was an extremely handsome man with a height of 5'10' and a well-toned body. He had a strong bone structure with high cheeks bones and a solid jaw line. He possessed dark brown almost black hair which hung just over his ears, usually styled in a casual disarray which made him looked sexy as hell. But it was the way he touched her, held her, kissed her that had changed the way Elena saw herself.

She wasn't a sheltered girl, but a woman. At twenty, she was ready to grow up.

"Damon? I have a favour to ask you."

He stopped and turned her into his powerful arms. "Anything."

It was now or never. He was all she had ever wanted in a man, every dream she had ever had about her knight in shining armour.

His thumb skimmed over her cheek. It was such a simple gesture, but Elena's heart fluttered and jumped wildly. Finally, she mustered up the nerve to tell him what she wanted. "I want…" Lord help her, she was nervous. "I want to spend the night with you."

His eyes locked on hers and everything around them, the breeze, the rain, the noise from the pub nearby, seemed to quiet immediately. "Are you sure?"

"I have never been more certain. You have been so patient with me, so sweet. I know it hasn't been easy." She glanced around, then leaning forward, she kissed him. "Let's go to your flat. I want to be with you."

Damon hadn't moved except to pull her close, but it seemed just a split second and his hands caught her head and his mouth came down on hers in a kiss the likes of which they had never shared. This was hot, hungry and a little dangerous. But Elena gave into it when his tongue slipped into her mouth, a soft moan escaped from her throat surprising both of them.

"I don't know what to do," she heard herself say.

"I will take care of you." His lips pressed into her temples and Damon's warm breath filled her with comfort, strength. "Do you trust me?"

"Yes."

She trusted him, above all else, Elena trusted him.

The short distance to his flat through the park near University College seemed endless. The waiting interminable. Now that she had decided, being with him was the only thing that mattered.

Once they had climbed the three flights of stairs and Damon had closed and locked the heavy wood door, Elena launched herself into his arms.

"Whoa, slow down. Elena, baby, slow down."

"I'm sorry…I…"

"Shh. Don't be sorry." His hand stroked her hair. "I want this to be good for you. We have to go slow."

"Okay. Okay." God, she was nervous. She was very nervous.

"Come here." Taking her hand, Damon led her through the living area of his flat. It wasn't big, but it was neat and beautifully appointed, with large windows she expected made the place gorgeous on a sunny day. It was much nicer than she expected, but over the past few months, she had learned that Damon was full of surprises. They entered his bedroom, which again, was surprisingly neat, and another set of large windows dominated one wall, looking out on the campus. He sat on the blue comforter covering the bed, pulling her down next to him. They stretched out and Damon made sure Elena was tucked securely into his side.

"Let me hold you for a bit. Get used to me."

Snuggling in, his body was hard, strong, and maybe that should have unnerved her, but never had she felt this protected. She felt safe with him. Totally safe.

"You have to know you can always tell me to stop. I won't push; this is all up to you. I don't want you to regret about this."

"I won't."

He raised himself over her and, not being able to resist, Elena reached out and touched Damon's face. He smiled and her whole world lit up. "I love you, Elena. I have never said that to anyone, and I won't say it to anyone ever again. You are it for me."

"Oh, Damon, I love you, too. But you need to know some things about me, about my family."

"You can tell me anything." His lips touched hers and everything heated up. At the same time, his hand travelled up her side, gently caressing the length of her body. Warmer still.

Elena gave in to the sensations that bloomed at each touch. With great care, Damon drew her sweater over her head, her jeans down her legs and once she was on his bed in only a bra and panties, Damon took a breath. "God, you are so beautiful. I can't believe you are with me." He rained kisses over her face and neck causing her to shiver. Pulling the covers back, he tucked her under the big comforter, finally stripped off his own jeans and shirt before joining her.

"Tell me to stop if you want me to."

Twining her arms around Damon's neck, Elena knew this was exactly where she wanted to be.

"I don't want you to stop. I want you, Damon. I want you so much."

His searing kiss was the last thing she remembered as their skin made contact, and Damon brought her to a whole new world.

Damon gradually drifted back to full awareness. He took his time about it, savouring the feel of Elena's body curled alongside his own. Her head was cradled on his arm. She had one palm resting on his chest and one foot wedged tantalizingly intimately between his legs. He felt her flex her toes a few times as though she liked touching him that way.

A warm, heavy, very bright sensation drifted through him. He could not remember the last time he had felt like this.

Maybe never. He shoved a pillow under his head and smiled into the shadows.

Then blue flashing lights broke into his room and the quick burst of a siren caused Elena to stir.

"What's going on outside?" Elena moaned. "It is barely dawn." She picked up her head and glanced towards the window. The sky was grey, letting them both know the night was almost over.

"I'm not sure." Planting his feet on the floor, Damon pulled on a pair of worn black sweatpants and approach the windows. "Some police milling around. A couple of men who look like private security. Hmm. A stretch Mercedes just pulled up. Looks like a diplomat's car. There are flags on the front."

He had never seen Elena move so fast. "What?" At his side, he could see the panic set in. Everything about her went rigid. "No. No, no, no. How did they find me? I turned off my cell phone."

Damon raised his brows. "Find you? You know who that is? What is going on?"

Looking outside again, a very attractive, middle aged woman, her dark brown hair pulled into a twist, exited the car, and looked up at his windows. When she spotted him, the look on her face could best be described as pained. Sad. What the hell was going on?

"Elena, who is the woman?" Damon demanded. "Can you tell me what the hell is going on?"

Craning her neck to see as she hopped around to get her jeans on, Elena groaned. "My mother."

"Your mother." Running his hand through his hair, Damon needed answers. "Your mother is being driven around in an official car? Is she an ambassador, or something?" He knew within a few weeks of meeting Elena that there had to be something out of the ordinary with the Gilbert family. He had spotted the personal security guard, who had done her best not to be noticed as she trailed Elena, months ago. They must have ditched her last night because as he thought about it the bodyguard had been nowhere in sight.

"She is not an ambassador."

"Then what is she?"

She froze. There were footsteps. People were climbing the stairs to his flat and Elena's breath caught before she was able to respond.

"My mother is the queen," she said hoarsely.

Of all the things she could have said, that was the last thing Damon had expected. "What?"

"My mother is Queen Miranda of Mystic Falls. My father is Grayson Alessandro Gilbert."

 _What the hell?_ "So that makes you a…a princess?"

Elena nodded at the same time there was a knock on the door.

"Why am I only just hearing about this now, Elena?" Damon's jaw tightened. "It is kind of a big deal."

"I kept it quiet so I could be normal."

"Normal. Oh. Am I part of your quest for normalcy?" Had she used him? Had he misjudged her?

"No, it was nothing like that, but—"

"Princess Elena?" A clipped, accented voice came booming from the hallway along with a more forceful knock. "Your Highness, are you alright?"

"Be right there," Damon responded. Grabbing a t-shirt from the basket of folded laundry on the couch, he pulled it over his head. "Can I let them in?"

Elena wiped her eyes and fluffed her hair. "Do I look okay? I mean do you think that—"

"That your mother is going to be able to tell you had sex all night?"

Damn, he regretted the moment those words left his mouth. The way her mouth dropped open Damon could see he had shocked her as well. And hurt her.

"That wasn't what I meant."

With her arms wrapped around her middle, her long straight hair tucked behind her ear, Elena looked young, scared and Damon had never felt so guilty.

"It is alright," she responded. But it wasn't alright.

The knocking on the door had gone to pounding. "I'm going to let them in before the goons in the hallway break down the door."

Her nod was tentative, afraid, and Damon's instinct was to hold her, protect her from whatever had her so frightened. He wanted to let her know it was going to be okay. But the truth was, he had no idea what was going to happen when he opened the door. Based on Elena's nerves, he could only imagine how this was going to go.

He flipped the deadbolt and before he could even turn the knob, the door burst open and he was pushed against the wall with a .45 calibre pistol pressed under his chin. Nope. Not good at all.

"Tell me why I shouldn't blow your brains out?" the goon growled. He was an older man, maybe in his forties—big and blond, he sounded like a character out of an action film—the guy wanted to affect the air of the lethal professional, but in Damon's mind he was on the same level. In one quick move, Damon had disarmed him and laid the man out on the floor. He popped the magazine out of the gun, kept the ammo, and handed the empty Glock back to the goon who was flat on his back and gasping for breath.

In the meantime, the woman he had seen out his window, Elena's mother, came through the door. And more than just walking in, the Queen made an entrance. Her royal blue wrap flowed off her tall, slender frame, and while she and her daughter had a strong resemblance to one another, the Queen definitely didn't possess her daughter's softness or warmth. No. Her Majesty was hard as nails.

She looked Damon up one side and down the other, and he had to give the woman credit, he couldn't tell what she thought of him. Instead, she went to her daughter and embraced her.

"We were so worried, Elena. What if something had happened to you?"

"I was safe, Mama."

"I wouldn't have let anything happen to her," Damon said. Damn. He wasn't planning on saying anything; he was going to take everything in and figure out where he fit.

The queen approached. "Based on poor Jasper's condition, I have no doubt you could protect her, Mr…"

"Salvatore." There was no getting away from his conditioning. He pulled to his full height, almost standing at attention. "Damon Salvatore, madam."

"You are American. And in their military?" His green tee shirt with the word ARMY across the chest gave him away. Thinking about it now, he might have done that on purpose.

"Former Army Ranger, but I no longer serve. I'm a graduate fellow."

"How old are you?"

 _This sounds like an interrogation,_ he realised.

"Twenty-five."

"I see. And you have been seeing my daughter?"

"Yes, madam. For several months." If only he could add that they were the best months of his life. "I love your daughter."

He hadn't meant to say that out loud, especially since he was pretty pissed off. It wasn't the way he intended to present himself to Elena's parents, but locking eyes with Elena, Damon could see she loved him, too. She may not have been honest about who she was, but what she felt was all over her face and it was very, very real.

"That is lovely, it is. And I don't mean to trivialize this relationship as it is obvious by my daughter's presence in your flat at this early hour, that this is quite serious."

Moving to Damon's side, Elena took his hand. "I love him, too, Mama."

"Oh, Elena, my sweet girl. I know this is hard, but we have discussed it. Your life is not your own. What you feel for this man will pass. Your duty is to your country and any match made for you must reflect that."

Duty? What was she talking about?

Damon could see Elena's eyes filling with tears. The urge to hold her was back.

Scratch that—it was so much more. He wanted to take her away from here, because it appeared that was the only way he could keep from losing her.

"I'm very sorry, Damon," the queen said. "But you won't be able to continue this relationship with my daughter. I'm sure you are a fine young man, but she has obligations. Elena, get your things."

Obligations? He was so angry he could spit nails. Thinking about Elena, with her free spirit and big heart, being stuffed into a life of obligations was heart-breaking. But then he watched her do exactly what her mother told her to do, and Damon understood very quickly that she was never really his. And she never would be.

"I am so sick and tired of my obligations," Elena spat. "What about my life? What I want to do?"

"Elena, this isn't anything we are going to talk about in front of an outsider. Not to mention, this disagreement has run its course. You are a member of Mystic Falls royal family. You will most certainly not marry an American soldier." The Queen sniffed her disapproval as she said the words, inferring that Damon was some kind of lowlife.

"You are insufferable, Mama. Damon is a good man."

"You are in line to the throne, Elena. Your responsibility has always been, and always will be, to your country. Good man or not, this is not going to happen. Your duty is elsewhere. Surely your soldier can understand that."

Elena was hurting and it killed Damon to see her like this. But what the queen said about duty? That was something he could understand. Knowing Elena as he did, he understood if she walked away from her family, from her country, to be with him, she would never really be happy, so Damon made a quick decision. He would be the bad guy. He would end it and end it quickly. She would probably wind up hating him.

"Could we have a moment, madam?"

The queen looked back and forth between him and Elena, finally nodding. It took less than ten seconds for her and her bodyguard to clear the room.

Once the door clicked shut, Damon moved to where Elena was standing by the big window He turned her to face him, and the pain in her eyes broke his heart even more. "You should have told me."

"I know, but it would have kept you away from me altogether."

"So instead we got involved in a doomed relationship. And you knew it."

"I didn't think it would come to this. I never thought it was "doomed," as you put it."

"What did you think would happen? Are you that naïve?" His jaw hardened. "You are a princess, for goodness sake! Did you think you can convince your mother, your family, that you could be with someone like me?"

Furious, she snapped. "What do you mean someone like you? They should be thrilled a man like you, who is honourable, brave, and brilliant, feels anything for me at all, much less love. They are pompous snobs, my parents." She took a breath. "Don't get me wrong, my mother is probably one of the strongest, most intuitive rulers my country has ever had. But as a mother, she is more stuck on protocol than my happiness."

Damon couldn't help but feel satisfied by how she defended him, even though it didn't change anything. "My knowledge of Mystic Falls is limited, but your mother has her hands full with some very vocal critics of your family who, quite frankly, could be a risk to all of you."

"What are we going to do?" She sat on the edge of the sofa, dropped her head and wiped at her eyes. "I can't bear the thought of being without you. We have to do something. I have to do something."

This meant she either had to make a choice to abandon her family, her heritage, or Damon had to walk away. Even if Elena didn't think her family needed her, he could see now, they did.

They needed her compassion, her love of people, and her ability to understand delicate situations to balance the hardness he saw in her mother. Leaving behind who she was and all she knew was fine for a few years at university, but not for a lifetime.

It was clearer now that he had to make the break because she wasn't going to.

"Everything has changed, Elena."

Elena shook her head. "No."

"Dammit!" He cursed. "Everything has changed and you know it."

"Okay, fine, yeah, I mean, everything has changed. I'm happy. So are you, Damon. Just like you were last night before you knew about any of this.

His mouth thinned. "You know what would make me happy? To know that this entire time that I have been completely in love with you; that what you actually felt for me; was real."

"It is real. I know that it is real, Damon."

"You shouldn't have gotten involved with me. I get that you wanted to be normal, but how can I even trust that what you feel for me is real? That you didn't just want to—I don't know—scratch an itch." The shadow that crossed her face let him know exactly how much that comment had wounded her.

Her eyes widened. "Damon, are you serious? Scratch an itch?"

"I'm dead serious. I have got to cut my losses here. It is bad enough I'm going to feel like shit because you are gone, but to know I was just part of some game? That sucks." Standing, she took a few tentative steps in his direction and for a split second, he didn't know if he could go through with it. But he couldn't stop, not now. Pushing her away, back to her own life, was the only solution. "Go, Princess. Have a good life."

She started to speak but stopped, almost like she realized that there was nothing left to say. Mustering all the pride she could, her back straight, Elena picked up her purse and jacket.

She took a breath, her lip trembled, but she stayed composed. For all her outward bluster, her big personality, if Damon had learned anything about Elena since they had been together, it was that she had a tender and sensitive heart. And he could see how deep he had cut her as the sparkle left her brown-doe eyes.

"You were never a game, Damon. Not ever." Walking to the door, she yanked it open before saying her final piece. "I thought I knew you." She paused. "More than that, I thought you knew me. I guess I was wrong."

She didn't say goodbye. He listened to her footsteps fade as she descended the staircase; watched her as she walked out of the building and to the waiting car. She didn't look up towards his window, not even a passing glance.

Once she was gone, Damon sank into his couch cushions and picked up her scent—light, spicy, and tinged with their lovemaking. It mocked him. He figured this was just the beginning. As time passed, he wouldn't get over her, instead he would suffer for every unkind word he uttered to her. He had just been such a bastard he deserved to be miserable for the rest of his life.

Damon Salvatore was so completely screwed…and definitely not in a good way.

* * *

 **I had re watched some royal movies "Princess' Diary" and "The Prince and Me" in the recent weeks and I thought I would try to write a royal Delena tale:)**

 **I hope you guys/gays will enjoy this. I promise I will try my best to bring out the dynamics and chemistry of Delena. Watch the space:)**


	2. Chapter 2

_Chicago_

 _Ten Years Later_

Special Agent Damon Salvatore's eyes were locked on the surveillance van monitors. The subject was exiting her vehicle and making her way towards the entrance of the high-end department store for a bit of shopping. She turned the heads of several men walking by, but no one knew that the gorgeous brunette was a visiting dignitary from a tiny country located at the Gulf of Mexico.

A small child darted in front of her, stumbling, and of course, she stopped to help the little boy.

"Get inside the department store, gorgeous," Damon grumbled. Too much time outside, in an environment with limited control, was never good. Granted, everything seemed alright, no one knew who she was, but lately any VIP visit to the city brought out the whackos. A limo with diplomatic plates was more than enough to attract attention. Add to that today's visitor was a royal with a target on her back, and the situation became that much more critical.

He worried too much, he knew that. Any glitch, any unexpected movement on the part of the dignitaries he was charged with guarding, and Damon lost his shit.

But he had to give her credit; Crown Princess Elena of Mystic Falls wasn't going to bow to threats. The rebel factions that had terrorized the royal family of her small country for almost a decade had promised more bloodshed—more death—if their demands for the overthrow of the royal family weren't met. And that was no lie. The violence had escalated over the past year, resulting in the death of Elena's only brother, which left the petite, brunette beauty as the heir to the throne.

"What is she doing? Damn." Now she was having a conversation with the kid's mother.

"She is such a pain in the ass." Which made her just like every other royal who breezed into town. Damon had been working on Princess Elena's protection plan for a month, checking possible vulnerabilities and coordinating with security agencies. The political turmoil in her home country added a layer of complication, but Damon stayed on top of it. He treated her visit with the same care he gave every other dignitary. But she was more. She had always been more.

One of the other agents, Alaric Saltzman, who was monitoring the situation, laughed. "You know her, right?"

"I knew her when I was at school in Oxford for my masters." He didn't elaborate. Alaric didn't ask.

"That's right. You have way too many letters after your name, man. Why are you here doing this kind of work exactly?" Alaric looked at him. "You can get easily get a high-paid office job.:

Damon shrugged. "I'm here because I like the work, it is important and I'm good at it."

And he was. Damon headed a squad of counter terrorism specialists. His training as an Army Ranger, his education, and his interest in working with other agencies to protect those vulnerable to attack made this the perfect job for him.

There was no doubt this job was stressful but Damon loved challenges and he enjoyed the challenges.

Foreign heads of state were the most problematic guests. Their own security force wanted to keep control, however they didn't understand the pitfalls of moving around in a big city like Chicago. The princess's people were no different, and the arrogance her chief of security added to the mix gave Damon a serious desire to kick the guy's ass.

She was outside too long. Too. Damn. Long. He watched the street, the traffic, and the people moving on the sidewalk by the store and across the street. Nothing was considered unimportant. Damon worked the details, just like always.

Everything seemed fine, but he wished the princess would keep with the program.

Finally, she went into the store. _Thank God,_ he thought.

"You need to calm down, Damon. She was just being nice to the kid and his mother."

Nice. Damon didn't want her to be nice; he wanted her to stay safe. Being nice, being vulnerable, is what got people killed and no one was going to get killed on his watch.

Especially not Elena.

Settling into the stiff plastic chair that had been bolted to the floor. Damon continued to watch the street outside. It was a really nice late spring day. If he wasn't working he would be outside someplace, running, or maybe out on a boat with a rod and reel, not necessarily trying to catch anything, but just to kill time on the water. Damon hadn't done anything to kill time recently, he didn't relax.

He just worked.

His chirping cell phone broke his train of thought. "Damon Salvatore."

"Damon, we have a problem." It was Bonnie, one of the analysts in Washington with whom he often coordinated. She was smart as a whip, and not an alarmist. If she said there was a problem, there was a problem.

He straightened and listened. "Go on. What is it?"

"You know the threats we have been watching regarding the royal family in Mystic Falls?"

"I'm listening. Carry on."

"There has been an attack. The queen and the archduke were traveling to their residence in the mountains and someone ran their car off a narrow road. There were at least three gunmen and if it wasn't for some very smart driving by their bodyguard, they would all be dead."

"Damn," Damon cursed softly.

He turned to his partner. "Go into the store, find the princess, and as quietly as possible, get her out of the store and into her car."

"What should I tell her?"

"Just tell her there has been an emergency change of plans and it is necessary for her safety."

"Okay. What if she says no?" Alaric stood, putting on his suit jacket.

"She won't."

Alaric nodded and headed out of the van, "Whatever you say, boss."

Damon went back to his phone conversation with Bonnie. "Get a couple of agents to the hotel. I want that place locked down. Everyone gets checked. Everyone. I don't care if it's the General Manager's grandmother."

"Got it," the voice responded in his ear. "Are you on your way there?"

"I'm going to the office first. I need to figure out our next step, but I should be there soon."

Damon waited until Elena was out of the store and her car safely on its way. Once he was back in the van, Damon started the engine to get them back to the office. He had an idea. It was radical, but the more he thought about the information coming in, the more he thought about the way the attack on her family went down, the more Damon believed there was someone inside the palace who knew the family's movements.

Which meant someone knew exactly where Elena would be and when she would be there.

He had to change that.

Alaric slid into the passenger seat. "She was pissed."

Damon chuckled. "I bet."

Elena was a firecracker when he had first met her, and he was happy to hear that hadn't changed. She took shit from no one. Well, no one except her mother. "She didn't make it too hard, did she?"

"No, but her personal secretary? Luke, some guy, was insane. I swear I almost knocked him out."

Damon made a mental note about the secretary, because the last thing he needed was anyone running interference when Elena's life was at stake. Seeing her was hard enough, but now Damon was putting himself back in her world and he had no idea how they were going to handle it. He had to be the professional. He had to keep his distance. But he also knew this was Elena, and that changed everything. The last thing he needed were members of her entourage going off the rails.

He also had to consider every one of them was a suspect.

His first thought was that she needed to go into hiding until they caught the bad guys.

But where? Someone was in the United States ready to go after her, and it was Damon's job to keep that from happening.


	3. Chapter 3

A cup of jasmine tea was exactly what Elena needed and her lady's maid, Caroline, always seemed to know. She hadn't seen anyone from her security team since they had deposited her back in the hotel, and she didn't know the reason why she had been fetched from the store and driven back to the hotel. Nothing had been said except that there was an emergency and that they, whoever they were, wanted her in a secure location.

She could have objected, but her bodyguard reminded her that she had to respect safety directives. Every time she got that reminder she remembered her brother, who didn't take heed and paid with his life.

Elena looked around. Right now there were several of Chicago police officers patrolling her floor, and there were two Americans from one of their law enforcement agencies stationed in the room with her. They were very polite, big men in dark suits with ear pieces, and she felt safe with them close by, but there was no getting around the fact that she had been moved swiftly from her shopping trip and was now a prisoner in her suite.

"You are upset." Caroline, who had been a constant presence in her life, sat on the sofa next to her. "What is running around in that head, my girl?"

"Other than questions? Nothing. I wish someone would talk to me. I don't know what happened; why there was sudden danger…it is upsetting."

Just like when she was a child, Elena pulled her knees to her chest. She had shed her official clothes the minute they arrived back at the suite. Her preference when she didn't have to go out in public was always the same—well-worn blue jeans, a long sleeve tee shirt and soft, thick socks.

She had a blazing headache and like she told Caroline, many, many questions.

There was a knock at the door and the two agents moved to answer. That was Elena's cue—she was on. Even wearing jeans, having no say over her movements, being told where to go and what to do, she was still a royal and represented her country, so self-pity and hysteria were not allowed. There was no doubt that members of her entourage were upset. But no matter what she felt, she kept her emotions tightly wrapped.

Since she had awakened that morning, she couldn't stop thinking about her brother.

Jeremy was two years younger than Elena and was raised from birth to be the next King. He had strong, fair-minded, and kind. He had been so very kind. His life had been cut short when the cowardly terrorists bombed a new school he was touring in a small, quiet mountain village.

Fortunately, no children were in attendance, but if it had been an hour earlier, the incident could have been even more tragic than losing her brother.

What it did show was that the insurgents could strike anywhere, at any time, and would do so to make a point.

"Princess Elena," Her head of security, Tanner, was white as a sheet. He had been dealing with the increased threats and suffocating security measures for the past five years. Truthfully, she didn't know if he was up to it anymore.

"Tanner. Is there any news? What is happening? Why did I have to return here?"

"We have little information, Your Highness. However, we do know that something happened with your family. We are awaiting word."

Her family? Her family was being attacked again? God, she couldn't bear to lose anyone else. Not after Jeremy. "You don't know anything?"

"Not yet. I'm waiting for word from the FBI. One of their people has been in touch with the palace."

Tanner breathed out. He didn't like having to relinquish control to the local authorities.

He felt he knew his job better than they ever could, but today proved, once again, that Tanner was unable to keep up with the ever increasing threats.

"Thank you, Tanner. I appreciate being kept informed. I want to know the second you hear a word. I don't care if it's good or bad." Folding her arms and pacing the room, Elena thought about how her life had changed since she had been invested as the Crown Princess. It wasn't something she ever wanted or ever planned for. When she was in university, she actually thought she might relinquish her title.

 _Life is never predictable, isn't it?_ Elena realised.

There was another knock at the door, which she hoped meant there was news, and Elena wondered if she could convince her American keepers to let her talk to the Ambassador. She should be allowed to do anything she wanted, that was the way things were in her world, but in the United States, where barely anyone knew her, she had to follow a different set of rules.

However, that wasn't going to stop her from trying.

"Gentlemen, I would like to be taken to the Embassy. I need to see the ambassador so I can find out exactly what happened with my parents."

The two agents who had just entered the room looked at each other, obviously baffled at her demand. "Never ask, Elena," her mother always said. "You are a princess, you tell people what you want."

"Madam, we have orders to keep you here at this time," said one of the Americans.

"You will be fully briefed, madam. We are sorry for the delay," said the other.

"I beg your pardon." Elena put on her best royal air. "You may have orders, but I don't."

"Please be patient, madam. Our supervisor will be here shortly, and he will have all the information you need."

They were exceedingly polite and she had to give these men credit. Usually her princess bluster flustered the most controlled authority figure. Not them. They were well-trained, unflappable. It actually made Elena feel safer.

The door to the suite burst open, and her personal secretary flew into the room only to be stopped by the two very large emissaries from the FBI.

"Get out of my way. I need to see the princess."

One of them turned to her. "Madam?"

"That's Your Highness, you oaf." Luke wasn't born in Mystic Falls, but his family moved to the country when he was a child. He was high strung on his best day.

"It is fine," she responded. "They have been quite polite, Luke, if a bit obstinate."

"These Americans have no respect." Luke outrage was evident, and in Elena's opinion, misplaced.

"They are doing their jobs and doing it quite well, Luke, and until we know more, we are going to cooperate. Understood?"

"Humph. Well, your schedule has been completely thrown off. You are supposed to have dinner with several ambassadors to discuss the potable water project. We can still get you there, but I would like to make it later so you have some time to rest. We can have a hairdresser brought in…"

The last thing Elena wanted to do was have dinner with the ambassadors even if the water issue was something she was eager to learn more about.

Luke was still blathering on about her hair. Or maybe now he had moved on to her dress.

"The black dress should work. I will push dinner back to eight-thirty?"

"She is not going anywhere."

The deep baritone filled the room. As always, it exuded steady confidence and authority.

There was nothing threatening, no need for a raised voice. Elena turned and locked eyes on the man who had once meant everything to her. The one for whom she would have given up her whole life.

"Damon," she whispered.

"Your Highness." He dipped his head in greeting.

Appropriate, respectful. And certainly not the way she had been greeted by him in the past.

Of course when they knew each other at university, he thought she was just another student, Elena, the girl he had fallen in love with. Looking at him she could see that he had changed, but only for the better. His face was the same, high, defined cheekbones, an angular jaw, and he still had the most beautiful dark brown, almost black hair. He was exceptionally handsome, but it was his eyes that drew her in. Round and intense blue-grey eyes, Damon's eyes were like jewels. Magic.

"I had no idea you were—"

"I'm the head of the FBI task force. I have been operating in the background during your visit."

"So you are in charge?" Luke snapped. "What is the meaning of the way your people are treating the Princess? She needs information."

"I understand. Please sit down, Your Highness." He motioned to the sofa, stiff and formal, but when they made eye contact? A spark, a flash. And then a long, smouldering ember ignited, warming Elena from the inside out. All these years and he evoked the same response as when they were students. "Your parents were attacked while they were en route to the residence in the mountains. Everyone is going to be fine, but there were some injuries."

"That doesn't explain what happened today. Why has Her Highness been kept under lock and key?" Luke was getting downright nasty and Damon's lack of response made her secretary even bolder. She should step in to stop it, but there was a shift in posture, a change in stance and it was obvious Special Agent Salvatore was about to push back. Hard.

Damon raised his eyebrow and stood, towering over the much shorter Luke. "I don't recall that we have ever met, Mr Parker, and I understand your concern, but I don't answer to you."

One step towards Luke and Damon established his dominance—it was very subtle, but very male.

"Are we clear?" Damon asked. "I answer to my government, and when directed to, your government. You are not the government."

Elena slumped down in her seat. "Luke, with the attack on my family, they assumed there would be an attack on me. Am I right, Special Agent Salvatore?"

"That is correct. We have been monitoring all threats on you and your family. There are reasons to be concerned and it is why we are going to move you to a safe location." He was not giving her a choice which meant he was operating with authority.

Authority over her.

"Is there any information about my family?" Knowing that her parents were safe was the only thing on Elena's mind. "Damon?"

Using his first name was a mistake. The shock of seeing him when he first came in the room was one thing. But familiarity was not acceptable, and it wasn't safe. The people who were depending on her needed her to keep her wits about her. She shouldn't be focusing on the tall, gorgeous man who was making her remember what it was like to be so in love it hurt.

Damon still hadn't given her an answer, though. He wouldn't even look at her.

"How many times must I ask the question?"

He closed the distance between them and the pained look on his face told her what she didn't really want to know. "Elena." His voice was tender, soft. "Your mother was injured. It is serious, but she is expected to make it. Your father will be fine."

"You will address the princess as YOUR HIGHNESS!" Luke chided. Through the haze of tears, Elena saw only Damon. His eyes were still focused on hers, but when he heard the order, barked with such disrespect, his jaw muscles clenched and he turned.

"You will get the hell out of here!" He pointed at the two FBI agents standing at the edge of the group. "Clear the room. Every one leaves."

She had never been so relieved—or so terrified—obviously he realized she needed the space, needed time to process what had happened.

Oh, God…her mother. She had already lost her brother. She couldn't bear the pain of losing her mother.

"I'm not leaving you alone with Her Highness," Tanner retorted. "I'm in charge of her security."

"Yeah," Damon said. "Not anymore. I had a conversation with the palace. As in the Archduke. I'm in charge of her security."

He had talked to her father? Damon was going to take charge of her protective detail?

"Now give the princess some space. We will come up with a plan as soon as she is comfortable being part of the discussion."

There was no shortage of objections, especially from Luke, who as usual was more interested in how this was affecting him.

But Damon didn't care. He herded everyone out and once the door was closed, he latched it. She was now locked in a hotel suite with the most handsome man on the face of the earth, the man she once thought of as the love of her life. The man who broke her heart into a million pieces.

"You spoke to my father?"

He stepped back into the living room, and stuffed his hands in his pockets. Damon was always fit and strong, but as he aged, he filled out. He looked like a man, not a university student, but all that was just physical. This man was in control. He was sure of himself— confident. It had been ten very long years missing him.

"I called the embassy, and the ambassador wanted me to speak to the Archduke directly. Understandably, he is very concerned. But he seemed comfortable with me taking charge of your security."

"He did? It must be serious, then"

Damon nodded. "Very." He approached and sat on the sofa next to her. The closeness of his body brought back all the memories.

"Mama?" she whispered.

"She is unconscious, has a very bad concussion. It was a miracle there weren't more injuries."

"I need to go home to be with her." Elena rose and moved frantically for her bedroom, before Damon grabbed her hand and stopped her.

"I'm sorry." She looked startled. Scared. He dropped her hand. "That can't happen right now. We are going to be moving you to a secure location."

When she started to object, Damon laid a finger over her lips silencing her.

Was he serious? She thought.

She had every right to question him. He was about to say something, but hesitated right before he reached out and gently dropped his hand on her shoulder. Too stunned to stop him, not that she would be able to, Damon guided her into the main bath and turned on the shower. Under any other circumstances this would have been a very appealing situation, now she was just confused. And hurting. God, her heart ached for her mother.

"What are you doing?" she asked while wiping her eyes. Everyone around her was going crazy. "I want to go home."

"Elena, listen."

"Why are we in here? This is absurd."

"No one can know what we are discussing. It is possible your suite is bugged. We will have it swept."

Her eyes widened. "Bugged? Like a listening device? That is impossible."

"Nothing is impossible. We have reason to believe there is someone in the United States who is planning an attack."

She looked terrified. "On me?"

"Yes. At this point, based on what happened to your family, we are operating as though your life is at risk. We believe that the individual wanted to carry out the attack today and that he is getting information from the inside."

"Inside?"

"In the palace, somewhere. Perhaps even here. It could be one of your people."

Sitting on the commode, Elena never felt less like a princess. She was hiding in a bathroom, with her ex-boyfriend, figuring out who was trying to kill her. Panicking would serve no purpose, so Elena fought back the urge lose it, and pulled herself together. "What do I have to do?"

"I have permission from the palace to take you out of here."

"Right, to some safe house."

"Not exactly. We are going to make it seem like that is where you are going, but I'm actually going to take you someplace else."

She swallowed. "I don't think you and I should be going anywhere together."

They should absolutely not be together, because she was already feeling twinges and ticks in her heart.

"I'm sorry you feel that way, because I'm on the detail. I was asked by your father to take the lead."

"He asked for you?"

"Yes. So this is what we are going to do…"

"My father asked you to protect me? You specifically."

"Yes." Damon's reply was terse. Special Agent Salvatore obviously wasn't used to being questioned. "I'm known to your family. They trust me, and there are precious few people you can trust right now." He paused, examining her eyes, waiting for another argument. "So, are you ready to hear the plan?"

Having been put in her place, Elena nodded.

"Good. We are going to hide you in plain sight. You and I are going to my family's cottage at Dunham Lake. That will give all the different agencies a chance to coordinate and find out who is responsible for the crash in Mystic Falls."

"Dunham Lake? That's a place?"

"Yes, it is in the state of Virginia. We will drive to Richmond and then take the ferry. You will be safe there."

"With you."

"Yes, with me."

"Shouldn't we be going to some isolated mountain safe house? With gun turrets and barricades and secret passages?"

He grinned at her-a soul-stealing, heart-stopping grin that was all for her. "As interesting as that sounds, no. Your seclusion will be much more mundane. You will blend in. You won't have to worry about your safety."

Elena prided herself on her self-control—she had been reining herself in all day. Naturally emotional, more so than the rest of her family, for her to keep her emotions in check was a considerable accomplishment. However, today tested her. She tried everything. Going through a list of rhyming words. Counting backwards by sevens. None of it worked. Damon being there hadn't helped. She felt her lips tremble. Her eyes started to burn and the first big tear, rolled down her cheek. Then another, and another. Burying her face in her hands, she let the tears go.

Tears for herself, but more than that, tears for her family. For her mother. "Why is this happening? Why are these people after us? We didn't do anything wrong."

"I don't have an answer," Damon replied "I wish I did."

"I wish I knew something. Anything. I feel so lost."

"We will find out about your family as soon as possible. We are keeping things on a need-to-know basis until we have you in a safe place."

Elena nodded, rubbing her forearm across her eyes. Damon reached around her, his big body coming way too close. He grabbed the box of tissue behind her and she clutched a handful when he offered it to her. "We are going to tell everyone I'm taking you to a safe house. We will send several black SUV's out at the same time from the VIP entrance, and a later on, you and I will take off for points east in my car. We are going to pretend to be a couple. Change your hairstyle, your makeup."

"What should I bring?" She sniffed and mopped at her eyes.

"Keep it casual. Low key. No gowns or tiaras."

 _Bastard_ , she thought. He was so damn sure about her. "Thank goodness," she said curtly.

"I left my tiara at home, along with my scepter and royal robes. It would have been a disaster if the ferry boat required such finery."

"Good to know you still have a sense of humour in there." He smirked and she was grateful, in some way, that she still felt easy with him. "If you want, we can hit some stores before we get on the ferry. There is an outlet mall out there."

"Outlet mall?"

He smiled, and Elena's heart pattered restlessly in her chest. Even in her state, she still responded to him. And she hated it.

"Outlets are where the regular people shop."

"You are having far too much fun at my expense. That was not nice."

"I'm sorry." He might have been sorry, but he was still smiling. Elena was going have to keep reminding herself how much he had hurt her ten years ago, how he made her believe anything was possible, and then told her what he thought of her the first time they hit a bump in the road.

"I guess I will go pack."

He turned off the water and opened the bathroom door. "No one can know. No one."

She nodded. "Can I talk to my parents?"

"As soon as we have a secure line."

 _Wonderful. More waiting_ , she thought. The waiting would be the death of her.

"How is my father?" she asked.

"He is well. Glad you are safe, but he acknowledges the threat is very real."

She nodded, and Damon dropped his strong hand on her shoulder. She took in his long fingers, the callouses, the dark hair on his arms. He was a strong man and Elena still had feelings for him. In that moment, she didn't know how this was protective custody thing was going to work.


	4. Chapter 4

Damon watched Elena out of the corner of his eye; she was curled into the passenger seat of his black Cherokee and staring out the window at the changing scenery. It had been a long drive from Chicago to Richmond but soon they would be at the Dunham Ferry in about ten minutes and would then make the ten-minute ride to Dunham Lake.

Her entourage was gone. Sent back to Mystic Falls where they would await word from other members of the royal staff. Based on the most recent report Damon had received, the palace was deserted—everyone had scattered.

He hadn't yet informed Elena of the latest information. He hoped he didn't have to tell her, there was a chance she would never go home.

He only knew he had to get Elena as far away from Mystic Falls as possible. Keeping Elena safe was his only and one priority now.

They had stopped at the outlets as promised and Elena picked up a few things—shorts, some jeans and casual pants—usually having designer clothes brought to her and custom fitted, or being escorted through luxury stores, shopping with the masses was something she hadn't done very often.

Before they left, a messenger arrived at the suite with two credit cards, something Elena never carried anymore, and it was easy to see she loved the independence. She always had.

"This place is beautiful," she said.

"Richmond is a nice city. But Dunham Lake is better. You will like it there."

"There are so many vineyards," she said. "I had no idea."

"You think we will be there that long?"

"It could be a week," he acknowledged. "Possibly longer. Not sure."

Taking a deep breath, she smiled shyly with acceptance. "Then I'm glad Dunham Lake is a nice place."

Her voice was sweet and musical. He had always loved listening to Elena talk. When she was excited or upset, she would bite her lips, making her look sexy as hell. Damon's heart stopped right in his chest.

Damn. I'm supposed to be over her. What am I thinking?

When they had been alone in her suite, when she had cried because she wanted to be with her mother, when the fear seemed to get the better of her, Damon just wanted to hold her. It was a miracle he had been able to hold back, because where Elena was concerned, his heart ruled him just like always.

Based on photos he had seen recently, she always wore her hair up and her makeup was expertly applied. He guessed it was to make her look older, more sophisticated. More like a future queen. Now though, her hair was down, the long dark brown hair spilling over her shoulders, and she wore only a touch of makeup. She looked as pretty and natural as when she was twenty. The girl he fell in love with ten-years ago.

The girl he was still in love with.

Every day since she had walked out of his flat, Damon wondered if he had done the right thing.

Knowing the responsibility on her shoulders right now, it was obvious he wasn't the man for her.

She is the future queen. I don't deserve her. She needs a better man than me.

Being cruel to her, hurtful, the day they broke up, made it easy for her to leave. And even now, Damon believed Elena needed someone who could support her, love her, and fit into her very complicated life.

He wasn't that man, but he would protect Elena until he drew his last breath. Nothing would happen to her as long as he was with her.

"You must hate that you have been saddled with me. I can't imagine this is going to be very exciting."

She still caught his vibe, knowing when there was something bothering him, but this time she was reading him wrong. "I actually do a lot of analysis. Not very exciting."

"You aren't chasing bad guys on a daily basis?"

"Not every day, no. I head up teams when there is an especially high risk of violence."

"I see. So everyone knew this visit was a bad idea, but me."

She didn't know? Not a chance.

"I doubt that. You have got your finger on the pulse of this threat. You came to Chicago to prove something."

"Don't be absurd. I don't have anything to prove."

Stopped at a traffic light, Damon looked over. "You forget it is me you are talking to, Princess."

She went quiet. Glancing over, he saw her watching the houses passed one after another. "After we lost Jeremy, there were many opinions regarding what we should do. Some said we should go into hiding. There was talk of exile. Parliament had some very long discussions with my mother. She is officially Head of State, but wields a lot of power. She has dug in her heels. It makes my father a bit mad, as he is just concerned for everyone's safety."

She was rambling as she sometimes did. It was her way of thinking things through. Damon was happy to see that so much about her hadn't changed and as beautiful as she was, Elena's brains were still her most attractive feature.

"So, you were in Chicago as a show of strength. Standing with your mother."

"If I'm going to be queen someday I can't very well hide, can I?"

"No," he said, throwing the car into park. They had reached the ferry dock, but he wanted to talk to her before they made the crossing. "But you don't have to paint a target on your back either."

"Those bloody bastards killed my brother. I'm not giving up my home for them."

There was the girl he knew—full of spit and fire, and not willing to take anyone's shit.

Damon looked at her. "Look, I get this. I understand you, and how much you love Mystic Falls, so I know where your defiance is coming from. But we are laying low while we are here. Once we get to Dunham Lake, you are Elena Sommers, my girlfriend. I know people there, and they will be curious, but there's lots of space. It is a very friendly place. But less is more. Be "shy," don't give a lot away."

"I have to be your girlfriend?" She glanced out the window, containing her emotions once again. He couldn't even imagine how she felt.

"That's the plan."

"You know, you didn't have to take me on. I could have flown home," she said.

He shook his head. "No you couldn't. Once your mother is able to travel, your family is going into hiding. The attempt was made with a great deal of precision and we simply don't know how many people the terrorists have who are feeding them information."

She leaned her back into her headrest, closed her eyes. "They are winning. The terrorists."

"Not yet. Everyone is fine. Your mother is conscious. But they are getting out of Mystic Falls. This is one of those times when getting all of you out of sight could force their hand. They are going to be looking for you and we hope that trips up their organization."

She sighed. "I have no idea what to think about all of this."

"Your father wanted me to get you off the grid. That's what I'm going to do."

She raised her brows. "He wanted you, truly?"

"I was surprised too. His request went through at a very high level. I'm not even sure how high."

"Rest assured, I will be cooperative, especially if it keeps my family safe."

Not knowing what made him do it, Damon reached out and covered her hand with his. The reaction was instant. His entire body warmed and Elena's eyes locked on their two hands. "This isn't an ideal situation, I know that, but everything is going to work out."

"Thank you, Damon." She pulled her hand away. "I do appreciate your efforts and the efforts of your government to help my country."

They stayed there, not moving. Finally, when he heard the horn blaring from the incoming ferry, he turned his head away. He had just been told in the nicest way possible to keep his hands off of her. And just like when they broke up, he missed the feel of her. He had missed it every day since he had lost her.

Get yourself together, Damon Salvatore. You don't deserve her.

Starting the car, he moved onto the ferry line, and fortunately, the boat wasn't crowded. They got out of the car and Elena walked to the rail, watching as they made their way across the bay. "The ferry is the only way on and off the lake?"

"Yes."

"This is actually quite nice." She looked off in the distance. "The white house on the shore right there is lovely."

The house she spoke of was one of the oldest in Dunham Lake. The main house of a very large coastal estate. "Ours is around the bend to the east. It has been in the family for sixty years. It is not as big as that house."

"I'm sure it is very nice."

It was more than nice. The house had six bedrooms and five bathrooms. The one Elena was just looking at was twice the size. His grandfather had bought the Salvatore boarding house in the fifties, after he had married, and spent many weekends fixing up the big old house with the amazing views. When his father and his uncles took ownership of the house, that was when the serious renovations started happening.

Now, the place was worth millions and every member of his family had a stake in it. It was the family homestead. A place where they held reunions and weddings and special events for generations and would continue to do so. Best of all, it was off the beaten path. Not isolated, but private.

The ferry pulled into the dock and once the car was offloaded, Elena seemed to relax a little. Damon figured she felt safe.

Considering everything she had been through, he considered that progress. That she was relaxing with him was another near miracle. Of course, that could change in a minute. He was still drawn to her, but Elena had made it very clear, this was business and no matter how many memories she dredged up, distance was his friend. When they actually had to look like a couple, the boundaries would be established and that would keep either of them from straying into dangerous territory.

He couldn't deny, he enjoyed the thought. Elena had gotten under his skin ten years ago. He had been ready to change his whole life plan for her, move wherever she wanted him to go, and then he found out even if she wanted him, he wasn't right for her. They couldn't be together.

But whatever had passed between them was over, there was no room for nostalgia on this assignment. His job was to protect her. That was all.

"A family friend dropped off a few groceries," he said. "So, there are basics in the house until we can get to the market in the morning. I asked for tea and cream, since I know you don't drink coffee."

"You remembered?"

How could he forget? "I remember a lot about you."

"Oh. Well." She straightened herself in the seat. "Thank you for being so considerate."

"You are welcome. There is a restaurant not too far from here. Why don't we get something to eat before we head home?"

"I am a little hungry. I hadn't really thought about it much."

"Your mind wasn't on food. Do you like Italian?"

"I do. American Pizza is one of my favourites." She bit her lip. "But is it okay for me to be out and about? I mean if someone recognizes me—"

Damon smiled at her. "No one is going to recognize you."

The look on her face was priceless. He lips pursed, her eyes narrowed-it was a combination of shock, anger, and insult.

"What do you mean no one is going to recognize me?"

"You are not that famous here, Princess. Your entire country isn't as big as our smallest state, I doubt most people could locate it on a map." She was sulking and he found that so funny. He tried hard not to laugh out loud.

She was worried about being recognized, but there was no doubt, Elena was used to being adored. "Couple that with the fact that the only royals Americans know are British, and you have nothing to worry about. That should be the only thing that matters."

She nodded. "Of course. Of course that's the most important thing. I'm just surprised, is all."

"If you were a pop star, then it would be another story. The paparazzi would be hanging out of helicopters."

"Well, it is a good thing I'm only going to be responsible for a country one day," she snipped.

Okay, so Elena had changed a little, he said to himself. She has an ego now.

Pulling into the driveway of old house that had been converted into a very good Italian restaurant, Damon initially hoped there weren't a lot of people. But the parking lot was pretty full which meant there was the possibility of running into someone he knew. As soon as he parked he went around to Elena's side, and helped her out. "Give me your hand."

Her eyes widened. "My hand? Why?"

Keeping his eyes locked on hers which only made the temptation worse, Damon laced his fingers through hers. "Showtime."

Feeling Damon grasp her hand overwhelmed her, just like it had when they were sitting in his car before getting on the ferry. Plain and simple, she couldn't allow the feelings he dredged up to take hold. Never in her life had Elena felt so conflicted.

"I can't."

"What is it," he asked. "We are just going to have dinner. It is going to be fine."

How was she going to get out of this without completely betraying how he affected her?

"I can't face a crowd, Damon," she lied. "I will be jumping out of my skin. I thought I would be able to do this, but until I know about my family, I just can't make a public appearance." She was a woman who prided herself on her control, but being close to him was forcing every memory of how much she loved him to the surface, making her nervous, uncertain.

There was a brief silence.

"Okay. I'm sure I can find something at the house," he said eventually. "It won't be fancy."

"I don't need fancy. I just can't be in a public place right now."

You are a liar, Elena. You don't want to be this close to Damon right now because it is killing you. Why did they send him to protect me?

The rest was a blur. She got back in his vehicle and he drove. There were a series of turns down lanes with pretty cottages and homes that she watched go by far too quickly, but she needed to be someplace that wouldn't require her to feel his warmth and pick up his oh-so-familiar-scent. Most of the yards they passed were surrounded by white fences, green lawns and lush gardens. Just a few minutes from the restaurant, they were pulling down a small street, small pebbles crunching beneath the tires of Damon's truck. It was hard to see in the twilight, but once her eyes adjusted, it didn't look like a lane, but a private, tree-lined drive. And that's exactly what it was. All at once, the trees opened up to reveal a house bathed in lights.

It was a rather large house, covered in weathered grey shingles, with lots of windows and trimmed all in white. Gorgeous blue and white hydrangeas bordered the home and drive. It was stunning. "This is wonderful," she said.

"Yeah." He reached over her and pulled his weapon from the glove box.

"Is there a problem. Why did you get your gun?" She hated guns.

"Because there aren't many lights on in the house. Our housekeeper, Margie was going to leave a few on when she dropped off provisions and got the house ready. She might have forgotten, but I don't want to take any chances,"

Just as Damon said it, the front porch light came on and an older man, husky and tall, opened the front door and waved. "If it is a burglar, he is friendly."

"Jesus Christ," Damon grumbled.

"Who is that?"

"My uncle is here. I though he was still fishing in Florida."

She was nervous. "Your uncle? Is it okay that he is here? He is not going to tell anyone about me, is he?"

"Absolutely not. There isn't one member of my family you would have to worry about, but least of all, Uncle Zach. He is my father's younger brother. I told you about him. Stepped in when my dad died. He is a retired Army colonel. No security risk there."

"Oh, is that your Uncle Zach?"

Damon nodded. "You are probably safer that he is here. First, because there are two of us to protect you, and second, he is a better shot than I am. And that's saying something." Damon's humility was still one of his most charming attributes.

Two Salvatore men to protect her. She had to wonder what this family was all about. It was rare to find people dedicated to service. Elena knew Damon's father was a police officer who was killed in the line of duty. It appeared bravery ran deep with them.

"Alright. Let's get on with it, then." Holding her breath, Elena got out of the car and walked towards the house that would be her sanctuary—her prison in some ways. It was quite a lovely prison, but it was one nonetheless.

"Hello," she offered her hand to his uncle, who smiled and did the same. "I'm Elena."

"Elena, it is a pleasure," he responded formally. "I'm Zach Salvatore. You may call me Zach, or Uncle Zach, seeing you are with my nephew."

"I thought you were in the Keys fishing with Stefan?" Damon asked as he embraced his uncle, slapping his back with affection.

"I was. But how many big fish can you haul in. The weather was nicer here, so I came home. Plus, Stefan has to deal with some emergencies. Is that a problem?"

"Stefan is my brother," Damon explained to Elena. "He is a surgeon working in New York."

"I'm sorry we surprised you," Elena replied. "I hope it is not an imposition."

"Nah. Margie was by with extra groceries, and she made up two rooms upstairs."

"Damon said you were in the Army? Were you the one who inspired him to join up?"

Zach grinned and looked at Damon. "I don't know. Was I?"

Damon shrugged. "Probably a little. I was also restless. It took me a while to settle down and find my place."

Find his place. Whatever that meant, she had always thought his place would be with her, but she couldn't ever force him to live life like she did.

"Come on." Damon nodded towards the stairs. "Let's get your things upstairs."

"Alright," Elena nodded once. "It was nice to meet you, Uncle Zach." Zach stepped aside while Damon carried her bag to the first landing.

"If you need anything, Elena, you just ask. I'm glad to have you here." There was warmth about Zach Salvatore. The feeling was very genuine and Elena liked him immediately. The man was no pushover, but she sensed the same qualities in Zach that first drew her notice to Damon.

She guessed the elder man had a profound influence on his nephew.

Elena had the lucky job of following a very handsome Damon up the stairs. His behind was a sight to behold. Rounding out his nicely fitted trousers, the muscles went long and she could see them move with each stride.

Stop staring! You are a princess, Elena.

Her thoughts weren't very royal. But where Damon was concerned they never were. Once upon a time, her love for him had her ready to leave her entire life behind. Her home, her family, her responsibility…it was crazy. She would have followed him anywhere. And now they were here together and her feelings were welling up all over again.

Just like then, if he wanted to take her far away, and never come back, she would go with him.

"Here you go."

Damon flipped on the light and Elena walked into a truly charming guest suite. A large four poster bed, dominated a room bathed in seaside colours. Blue, green, teal and tan dominated the palette and Elena loved every bit of the space, especially the large French doors and casement windows that afforded her a lovely view of the backyard.

"The bath is over here." He flipped on another light. "And the walk-in closet is over there." He stood in the middle of the room, hands stuffed in his pockets. "I'm going to change and go make some sandwiches or something."

"Okay. I will do the same and find you."

"Sounds good." He headed for the door, but as she remembered, he always looked back one last time, and smiled.

"It is going to be alright, isn't it?" she blurted out. "I mean I don't have to worry while I'm here." Even with all the reassurances the knot in her stomach was growing by the minute.

He paused, a little too long for her liking, obviously thinking about his answer. "We have covered our tracks pretty well and only four people know where we are. One is at the State Department, two are at the Bureau and the other is your father. No one else from your country knows where you have been taken. I mean, there is always a chance you could be found, but it is unlikely."

"Wonderful. Here I am putting you, your uncle, and the people here at risk."

"I won't let anything happen to you. You know that, right?" He took a step towards her. "You are safe here."

His voice, which was naturally deep, was hoarse and full of emotion. Elena's eyes flooded and no longer able to maintain her cool air, she went to him, wrapping her arms around his waist. Her head settled on his chest and then, because being with him wasn't enough to turn her world upside down, his arms wrapped around her, holding her safe and secure next to him.

She was in Damon's arms and for the first time since she left him all those years ago, everything felt right. And it was a disaster in the making.

"Don't be afraid, Elena," he said gently. "I promise you, nothing will happen."

"I know you will. I believe you. I do."

"I'm glad." He rubbed her back, the circling motion such a comfort. "So, ah, are we still friends, at least?"

"Friends?" she asked. Seriously? Friends? How could we ever be only friends? "I don't know. Are we?"

Damon gave her a fleeting smile. "I would like to think we are. I mean we were before we got, you know, involved."

"I think we shall find a way to manage a good working relationship."

He raised one eyebrow. "A working relationship?"

"Yes. A friendly working relationship."

This was dangerous territory. She was vulnerable and emotional and Damon was in a heightened alpha state. But being in his arms felt good. It felt so good.

"I should change," she said, lifting her face to his. "I'm sorry for being so familiar with you."

But he held on and so did she. All Elena could think was how much she had missed him.

Not only as a man she loved, but as her friend. The time they spent together before becoming romantically involved was some of the best of her life.

Finally stepping back from him, because she was at risk of kissing him senseless, Elena wiped her eyes and used the distance to talk some sense into herself. His hands went back in his pockets and a sad grin teased his mouth. Damon missed her, too. She could feel it, but starting something now would be as foolish as the relationship they started when they were at university.

It was out of the question.

"I will see you downstairs. Take your time."

He left then, leaving Elena with her thoughts, desires, and her still very broken heart.


	5. Chapter 5

"You could have told me you were bringing home a princess."

Damon stepped into the large country kitchen where Zach was at the stove turning chicken in a pan. "I didn't know you would be here or I would have."

"Jesus, Damon. A princess? Is she the girl who broke your heart when you were at school in Oxford?"

Damon nodded. "Yup. But I don't want to talk about it." Grabbing a beer from the fridge he turned and faced the man who helped raise him. The one who had endured his own troubled romantic past.

"Since she is here and she needs protection, you are damn well going to tell me about it. I mean I heard what happened to her family today. Is she handling it okay?"

"For now, she is. We were lucky on this side of the pond, but her mother has been hurt. That is why she didn't go home or stay with her people. I suspect there is someone on the inside feeding the insurgents information."

"Shoot and damn. So no one knows you are here with her?"

"Her father knows, in addition to a couple of people at the Bureau and one at State."

"Damn. I saw her get out of the car and I wondered what kind of mess you had gotten yourself into. She is a beauty, though."

He couldn't disagree. "She is even prettier on the inside."

"And based on that look in your eyes, my boy…" Zach said as he poured the homemade sauce over the chicken, "...you are a total goner."

Again, Damon couldn't disagree, but this time he changed the subject. Definitely time to change the subject. "She is very out of her element; she is afraid."

"Understandable. What about you?"

He took a long pull on his beer. "The bastards almost killed her whole family. They have two of the three drivers from the attempted hit on her parents. We are hoping we can get some intel on the guy we have in custody. We don't think he was alone. Someone is still after her."

"There is someone else looking for me?"

Damn, Damon cursed silently. There she was, standing in the doorway. Of all the things she had to overhear, it had to be that.

"Damon?" If Elena was only a little afraid before, she was terrified after overhearing him and his uncle talking. "Someone is still out there? The person in jail wasn't alone?"

Going to her, he guided her into the kitchen and hoped some simple reassurance would calm her down. "You are safe here. No one is going to find you."

She levelled her magical hazel eyes on Uncle Zach. "But you know who I am. If you know why wouldn't anyone else? So much for your theory, Special Agent Salvatore." She might have been upset, but that didn't stop her from dressing him down.

"I was stationed at The Hague, Your Highness," his uncle jumped in. "You and I have never met, but we have crossed paths."

Elena had been through about all she could take. Every movement was strained, every blink pushed back a tear. Damon set a glass of red wine in front of her and she sipped it gratefully.

"I don't know what to do," she whispered. "Everything I know has been turned upside down."

Crouching in front of her, Damon was just as frustrated. He had no answers to give. "Eat something, get a good night's sleep. Tomorrow you will have a better handle on how you are feeling."

She nodded, helpless, but not giving in. He could see the fierce resolve in her eyes. She always found that inner grace, the will to stand up and do something, no matter how small.

"Can I help with anything?" she asked uneasily.

"Nope. We are all done." Uncle Zach replied. "Just have to set the table."

Elena stood, drew in a breath, and pasted a determined expression on her face. "I will set the table. Show me the china, then."

Just like always, the thoughts that ran around her head late at night were the worst. The loneliness amplified all the mistakes, all the missing pieces of her life. She sat on the deck outside her room, knowing this was a huge security breach, but the cool night air was a comfort. She sniffled and blotted her eyes, not knowing exactly why she was crying. There were at least three reasons…her family, the personal danger she faced, and Damon. She had to trust the authorities with her safety and the safety of her family, but Damon was all on her. She wasn't truthful with him all those years ago, she didn't stand up for him with her family, and she had lost him as a result.

But he had ended their relationship with the most hurtful words—harsh, horrible things that made her hate him.

Elena hated him for about fifteen minutes and then she just hated that she would never see him again.

Muffling her tears and sniffles, she didn't want anyone to hear her, not that anyone could, but Elena hated crying.

 _Stop being a cry baby. Get a grip, girl!_

But she couldn't. At that point, it was the only thing to do, her only release. She was scared and overwhelmed and when she looked up from her self-pity, Damon was here.

Her breath shuddered.

"Come on inside. It is cold," he said softly.

He had heard her. Of course he did. His room was right next to hers. He had windows.

"No," she replied.

"Elena, come on. I know it is pretty isolated here, but let's not take unnecessary chances."

"I'm so sick of this. Of living in a bubble. Of worrying about every move, every person who comes around me."

"I know. You were sick of it a long time ago." She was. He knew that better than anyone.

"I don't understand. People want me dead. People I don't know, who I might have tried to help at some point…they want me dead. They are going to find us, Damon."

He pulled her up and nudged her back inside. "I know you are frustrated, but you have to be smart. You have always wanted to be normal, here is your chance."

Her eyes widened. "Normal? I'm a target!" she cried. "Am I just supposed to go on like nothing has happened?"

Damon's hand came up and tucked a lock of hair behind her ear. "Nothing will happen. Not while I'm around."

The light from the waning moon shone through her window and highlighted the planes and hollows of Damon's face. This man was so much more than she even deserved. Selfless, kind, and brave, she had never really believed she deserved Damon Salvatore—then or now. Overcome, as the new and old feelings collided, Elena stood on her toes and kissed his lips. Softly, innocently. It was a kiss to seal their partnership, cement their friendship, and remind him of all they were to each other. Of all they might be. Elena had decided to let herself dream.

He frowned. "Oh, Jesus, Elena. Why did you do that?"

"I wanted to. If I'm going to be your girlfriend, Damon Salvatore, I'm suppose I'm going to have to act like one." Locking her arms around his neck, it was time for more than a peck on the mouth.

So much for that friendly working relationship. To hell with it.

 _This is what I need. This is what I want._

The kiss plunged into the red zone with little warning. Elena's hands became small claws on his shoulders. Her mouth was hot and wet. She shivered in his arms, gasped for air, and pressed herself against him.

With a near-violent effort, he tore his mouth free.

"This is not a good idea," he managed.

She didn't seem to hear him at first. Then she froze. He could literally feel the chill that swept through her. He gently set her away from him.

"A bad couple of days, remember?" He raised his hand and pushed a lock of hair behind her ear. "You need sleep."

She took a step back, folded her arms very tightly. He could not read her there in the shadows—couldn't tell if she was hurt or embarrassed—but either way he was pretty sure he had screwed up.

"You are right," she said. She was clearly back in control. Her brittle smile held a steely edge. "This was a huge mistake. And it was my fault."

"Don't start," he warned.

"I apologize for putting you into such an awkward situation. You were trying to comfort me and I attempted to take advantage of your good intentions."

Outrage sparked through him. "That is not what was happening here."

"I hope you won't feel it necessary to find a replacement; however, I will understand if you do. If you elect to depart, I would appreciate you find someone you feel can handle a job like this one."

"I don't know what you think you are doing here," he said, "but let's cut out the heavy drama."

"You started it with all that crap about not taking advantage of me," she said.

That stung.

"It is the damned truth," he said. "I was trying to do what was best for you under the circumstances."

"You are right. You are trying to protect me."

"That decision has got nothing to do with this situation."

"I disagree," she said, very crisp and sure now. "You want this to be a friendly working relationship."

"This is crazy."

"It was a kiss, Damon. I was in the mood and evidently you were, too. It was your decision to end it and I can respect that. But do not try to tell me you did it for my own good. Is that clear?"

His jaw hardened. "This is what I get for trying to play the gentleman?"

"No, this is what you get for pissing me off," she said.

"Fine. Next time this happens I won't worry about whether going to bed with you is a good idea."

"Excellent. That would seem to settle things, then. I need sleep, so I will see you in the morning."

"Fine."

He was astonished by how much professional control he was forced to summon to resist the temptation to slam the door on the way out of her room.


	6. Chapter 6

Okay, so she had over overreacted.

 _So sue me_ , Elena thought.

She woke up the next morning with her face set and resolute. A woman had the right to be angry when she surfaced after a passionate kiss and discovered that the man with whom she had just shared the kiss was trying to tell her that it was a mistake. And how dare he said he was trying to do what was best for her? He had no idea what was best for her.

She had a quick shower, walked out of her room and slammed the door shut. She was feeling short of both temper and patience, and more than willing to blame everything on Damon this morning. Her emotions were so mixed up and so unstable today that she knew she could not begin to sort them out.

One thing was indisputable, however. She was well aware that she had no one to blame but herself for this untenable situation and that, of course, only made the mess all the more irritating. She had known what she was getting into when she made the decision to kiss the Hard-hearted Salvatore.

It occurred to her that, in addition to feeling pissed off, she also felt strong and decisive this morning. Energetic. Bold. Powerful. Gutsy.

Yes, she was mad as hell at Damon Salvatore, but even the anger felt good—cleansing in some weird way that she could not explain.

 _Doing the mature thing, Elena._

She could do it, she told herself. She squared her shoulders and stepped into the kitchen.

Yes, she was mad as hell at Nick Harte, but even the anger felt good—cleansing in some weird way that she could not explain.

Damon could not figure out where things had gone wrong last night.

He was still brooding over the disastrous ending to what could been a great evening when Elena stepped into the kitchen, dressed in white shorts and a simple pink top. Her dark, chestnut-coloured hair was pulled off her face and she wasn't wearing a shred of make-up. But she still looked good. Really, really good.

Good morning didn't seem appropriate under the circumstances, Damon thought. He searched for another, more suitable greeting.

"Hey," he said. "Would you like some coffee or tea? There are bagels."

"Thanks. I will help myself," she answered politely, but her eyes were wary and watchful.

"Get any sleep last night?" Zach asked across the table.

"A little." She walked into the kitchen and picked up the coffeepot. "I want to do a little exploring."

Zach and Damon looked at her.

"You feel up to going out?" Damon asked.

She nodded. "I would love to check out the town and the late we passed while we were on our way here."

"How about we stay local today, and check out the lake in a few days," Damon suggested.

She took a bite out of the bagel. "Sure."

Zach stood up. "I'm going to check my emails." He smiled at Elena. "Enjoy yourself today."

Damon and Elena watched Zach left the kitchen.

"Can we talk?" Considering how things went between the two of them late last night, they needed some ground rules.

"Of course. Is there something on your mind?" Her eyes had narrowed as she took another bite of the bagel, curious about what he needed to say. Maybe even a little suspicious. "I'm listening."

"We have to talk about last night." He didn't want to talk about it, but there wasn't any avoiding it. Already he could tell this conversation was not going to go well. The sudden shift in her posture, the set of her jaw, told Damon he was in a heap of trouble before he said a word.

"Last night? What about it?"

"Yeah," he rubbed his hands over his thighs. Damn. Why was he nervous? "Like you said, we need to establish a friendly working relationship. I think we have to set some ground rules so situations like the one that happened in your room, don't happen again."

"Was that a situation? I thought it was a kiss? And it was lovely."

"It was more than one, and if I hadn't put on the brakes, it could have developed into more."

"And if anything developed between us that would be a problem." She snapped.

Yeah, she was pissed. But he couldn't let that stop him. "That is right and I'm sure you understand why. We know from past experience that your position and my position don't mix."

She looked away and said nothing.

"The other thing is, and this is the most important consideration, I can't be distracted. My focus has to be on your safety."

"Of course." She nodded once. "I wouldn't want to distract you."

"I want you safe…"

"I understand. And that being the case we should probably forego our outing." She stood and nailed him with her fiery brown eyes. "It wouldn't be a very safe thing to do, and quite frankly, having a traditional body guard would only attract attention."

"That is probably true."

"So, since going out would require us to appear to be in a relationship, that was the plan, correct?" Damon nodded even though he knew he was being out maneuverer. "I guess we will be staying here, then. Or at least I will."

Now he felt like an asshole. "We can still go into town. You are not a prisoner. We just have to be aware of certain protocols."

"Protocols? I see." Her face had turned to stone. He couldn't read her if he wanted to, and that wasn't something Damon thought would affect him, but it did. "Very well. Please be ready to detail all procedures for me, Special Agent Salvatore. I require a full briefing and itinerary before we leave the house, and what would be the most appropriate behaviour on my part, given the circumstances."

Special Agent Salvatore. The Princess had re-entered the building. "Yes, madam. We will head out about ten, so I will give you your briefing at nine-thirty."

"Very good."

She vanished into the house without another word and only a quick nod to Zach who returned to the kitchen to get himself another cup of coffee. "Hmm," he said. "She looks angry."

"That would be accurate."

"What did you do?"

Damon was getting tired of playing this game with his uncle. "Nothing. All you have to know is that I will be following protocols with the princess to the letter. Her safety is my only concern."

"I didn't say it wasn't. I wouldn't expect anything else," Zach said. "You will keep her safe. But be careful. She is a hell raiser, that one."

"Don't I know it?"

"So, I talked to a buddy of mine at NATO." Zach frowned. "The shit going down over there is not good. You didn't tell me the whole story."

He hadn't. "She may not be able to go home. It looks like the nationalists have convinced enough members of parliament to request the royal family to go into exile. No one on that front is advocating violence, in fact they are condemning it, but all it takes are a few fanatics to scare people."

"The country is torn," his uncle added. "The general population loves the queen. I don't understand how they are getting so much traction for the separation from the royal family." Zach sighed. He had seen his share of governments in turmoil. Often it was Uncle Zach, or men like him, called on to protect those who couldn't protect themselves. "Are you going to tell her? If it is going to come from anyone, it should come from you."

Damon shook his head. "It is going to have to come from her family. Not me. We are getting her a secure phone so she can stay in touch."

"Right. Her family. I guess." Zach stood and took a long, deep breath. "You remember my buddy, Logan Fell?"

"Sure. He has the big fishing boat? Right?"

"Yup. It is down in Florida right now. I was going to fly down and help him drive it back. Planned on leaving in a few days."

"You are leaving?"

"Well, that is why I'm bringing it up. Is it a problem? If you need me to stay, I will."

"No," Damon did believe they were safe here in Dunham Lake. He didn't need his uncle to stay. No doubt Zach would provide an effective buffer between him and Elena, but it wasn't a reason to ask him to stay. "I'm just surprised. Last night you were talking about sandbagging the place like some kind of military bunker, now you are leaving?"

"If you want me to stay, I will. Let me know. Making sandbags is always a good time."

His uncle walked into the house and left Damon staring at his retreating form.

"Jesus Christ," he said.

It was no wonder Zach never married. He couldn't stay in one place for more than a few days. The man had the attention span of a chipmunk. But this time it wasn't Zach's attention span, or lack of one, that was the problem. This was him thinking Damon needed to be alone with the princess. He wanted to tell his uncle that alone or not, nothing was going to change. This wasn't some romantic getaway. The trip was about keeping her out of harm's way.

x x x

Elena sat at the small table in her room, looking out at the backyard. The view was stunning and she couldn't imagine ever tiring of seeing the beautiful flowers and trees in the backyard of the Salvatore boarding house. She was furious at herself for being so forward with Damon last night. She should have realized that he would pull back, that his honourable nature, his sense of duty, would outweigh his desire for her.

He felt something for her—that was obvious last night when she kissed him. He responded passionately, pulling her close, letting their mouths engage in a sensual dance. But as quickly as the heat flared between them, Damon doused the flame. In his arms, Elena felt alive, safe and normal-like a woman. In his arms she wasn't a princess, or a target, or a pawn in someone's sick game. She was just a woman, being held by the man she loved.

When she saw Damon again, it didn't take Elena long to realized that the graduate student she had fallen for was still there. At his core, he was still the brilliant, compassionate, loving man who had stolen her heart, but he had gotten better. Stronger, more confident, and even a little more handsome. Damon possessed a kindness and respect for others that was unyielding. Couple that with his intelligence, and she didn't have a chance. Now she was trapped with him in the house, wanting him, but not being able to have him.

"Damn you, Damon. Why did it have to be you?" Elena cursed softly.

"I'm sure he feels the same way. About you."

Zach Salvatore stood in her doorway with his arms folded. He flashed an easy smile, the same smile she had seen on Damon when they were students. There had been no sign of that easy good nature in Special Agent Salvatore, but that was most likely her fault. Damon had a lot of reasons not to be cheerful around her.

"I guess this is proof that you never get away from your past."

Zach smiled. "Our pasts define us. Why would you want to get away from it? Even painful pieces have made us who we are, and I don't know if that is bad. What do you think?"

She sighed. "I think I'm unprepared for a philosophical discussion. You obviously know about my history with your nephew."

"I do. I was stationed in Germany at the time. We met up in Scotland after you left and he went on a three-day bender. I think he was hungover for the better part of a week." The man was chuckling at the memory, but Elena felt her heart break all over again. Those days after she went home were spent curled in her bed watching sentimental movies with her dog while she cried her eyes out. There was nothing funny about it.

"You aren't making me feel better," she said dryly.

"I'm not trying to." He took a breath and stuffed his hands in his pockets. "Your Highness, you and my nephew have a history, as you said, and for whatever that is worth, it shouldn't be something you try to block out. It was very important to both of you."

"It was, but I believe your nephew would disagree. He wants no reminders. Nothing that would distract him from his work."

"You know, he could have gotten someone else to take on your protection."

"He was ordered to do this. My father…..."

Zach chuckled softly. "Your father has no power here. He made a request, and as a show of diplomatic courtesy, it was granted. But if Damon had informed his superiors of your past involvement, he would have been pulled from the case."

Elena's eyes widened. "He is here voluntarily?"

"Yes. He didn't like the idea of you being shuttled to some isolated safe house in the middle of nowhere. In his opinion, the location could have been compromised. Too many people inside different security agencies know where those safe houses are. Enough people that it was deemed a security risk. You would have been in more danger."

"He brought me here instead."

"Yup. Visitors come in and out, but it is easy to disappear, no one thinks much about us. Honestly, it was a stroke of genius getting you out of the city the way he did and bringing you here."

Elena thought about it. "I'm grateful. I do feel secure, but it is still dangerous. I mean this is your family home—anything could happen. The people after me are lunatics. Fanatics."

"We are both well aware of that, but I think it should be obvious he would risk everything to keep you safe. And I fully support his decision."

"Will your family support it? It is not just you and Damon."

"We trust each other, Elena." It was the first time Zach had broken protocol and not addressed her formally. "If he wants you here, you are going to stay."

Elena stood, overwhelmed by Zach's words. She approached and did the most natural thing in the world, she gave him a hug. The kindness, the concern, overwhelmed her and it was the only way she could think to properly thank him. "You are a prince, Zach Salvatore."

Zach looked amused. "I think you are the only woman who thinks I'm a prince."

She smiled. "You are a prince."

He turned more serious. "He cares about you. Be careful with him this time."

Stepping back, she met Zach's gaze, Elena's eyes burned. "I never meant to hurt him. I loved him so much."

"Then don't do it again. You have a chance to change the way things ended up between the two of you. If you don't intend to take it, make it very clear."

Elena stepped away and wiped her eyes when she heard Damon's footsteps on the stairs. He had a black portfolio that contained his iPad and his bearing said he was ready for the briefing.

It didn't take him long to figure out something had transpired between her and his uncle, but Damon didn't say anything, he just looked from one to the other and shook it off. He was all business and that made her sad.

"I'm going to go over our itinerary. Uncle Zach, we will be out so if you want something from the market, let me know." Special Agent Salvatore was most assuredly running this show.

And it only made Elena want to kiss him stupid.

"Get some nice steaks from the market." Zach grinned at Elena. "How do steaks grilled over an open flame sound for supper?"

"Sounds good," she replied.

"Anything else?" Damon asked.

Zach looked at Damon. "I'm almost out of Twinkies."

"Do you still eat those things?" Damon couldn't contain his disgust, but Elena was curious.

"What is a Twinkie?" she asked.

"You don't want to know," Damon responded.

"Sure you do. Hold on." With that Zach left the room.

Not having any idea what either of them were talking about, Elena was desperate to know about this Twinkie.

"What is a Twinkie?" she asked again.

"Twinkies," Damon grumbled. "The man has the palate of an eight-year-old boy."

She glared at him. "I would love to know what you are talking about."

Damon rubbed his hand across the back of his neck, obviously frustrated and ridiculously adorable. "A Twinkie is a snack cake. It is a yellow sponge cake filled with a sweet cream."

"That sounds quite delicious. You know I like sweets. Is there a baker in the town who makes these Twinkies?"

"Not even close," Damon smirked. "They are mass produced, packed in cellophane sleeves, and have a shelf life of between thirty and fifty years."

As if on cue, Zach re-entered the room with a china plate, which he held out for her. "Your Highness, something for you to try."

"Uncle Zach, don't feed her that." Damon was quite annoyed, but Elena loved his uncle's attempt to charm her.

"Why not?" the older man asked.

"Yeah," she said turning on her best American's attitude. "Why not?"

Zach continued and Elena was enjoying the battle of will between the two men immensely. "There are things you eat that aren't exactly gourmet food."

"Nothing like that!" Damon exclaimed.

"Two words: Cheese Doodles." His uncle held out the plate again. "Here you are Your Highness, your Twinkie."

She took the plate and hadn't felt this excited since her parents let her have wine with dinner when she was thirteen. It was just a drop, but it made her feel very grown up. "Do I need a fork?"

"Nope," Zach said. "Just pick it up."

Elena grabbed the finger-shaped golden cake, feeling its sticky texture between her fingers before bringing it to her mouth and taking a bite. As soon as she did…bliss.

The cake was sweet and moist, melting in her mouth, and the cream in the centre of the cake was sublime, rich, and delicious. "Oh, my. These are lovely."

She turned her attention to Damon who was watching her eat the cake, and she had no idea what he was thinking. Zach had slipped out of the room, so it was Elena, Damon, and a very sweet treat.

Licking her lips, she took another bite, and then another, letting the flavours blend together with each bite. She ran her tongue along her lips once more, hoping for some stray cream, and that was when she saw Damon staring at her. Staring, breathing hard and looking like he might take a bite out of her.

"I'm sorry," she said to him. "I'm hungry. I must look silly."

"You have a little…" He stepped closer to her and dragged his thumb gently over her lower lip. They were both frozen, locked in place, with Damon's thumb resting right near the opening of her mouth.

Elena was not a temptress. She had been called a lot of things by the tabloids, but that was probably the most ridiculous. She didn't date much and the men, other suitable men with titles, apparently found her cold. So the thought that ran through her head at that moment surprised her. It was bold, brash, and without thinking too much, she decided to fully take advantage of the opportunity to drive Special Agent Salvatore a little crazy.

Turning her head, Elena took Damon's thumb in her mouth and sucked off the cream.

The room had gone silent except for the sound of her own heart slamming hard into her ribs. Elena licked her lips again, knowing she was playing with fire, and that was all it took, she could see it in his eyes…Damon snapped.

He dragged her into his arms, covering her mouth with his in the kind of kiss she had only read about in romantic fantasies. This kiss was hot, hungry, and Elena didn't know if she could handle the man she had unleashed. But his arms felt so good and his mouth devouring hers felt even better. As his tongue swept into her mouth looking to taste her, to take some of her essence, one of his hands clutched her head, his fingers warm against the skin of her neck. He angled her head to take more of her, to plunge deeper with his tongue, letting her know where he wanted this to go.

His other hand slid down her back to her waist and slipped in the back of her shorts, skimming over the skin of her bottom. He pulled her into him and she felt him. Felt the large erection pressed into her belly, and Elena knew they weren't so far apart after all. They still wanted each other, still craved the other's body, and if she were right, their hearts were still calling for each other, as well. God knew, Elena's heart had never been the same since she had left him.

Damon's breath shuddered as he pulled back and his forehead touched hers. "Jesus. We can't do that again."

"Oh, Damon. I have missed you so," she whispered.

Easing her away, Elena saw the strain on his face. "I have missed you, too, but I have to keep my head clear. I can't…" His hand touched her cheek. "You were always so soft. I loved touching you."

She loved being touched, being held. In his arms, the corner of her heart that had gone dark all those years ago became brighter, happier. And just like before, it wasn't going to last.

There was no one who had ever, or would ever, make her feel the way he did.

"This isn't going to be easy on either of us," he said. "But if we get involved, it could make protecting you that much more difficult."

"I know. I'm a distraction."

"I need to be aware of what is around you, what could threaten you. I can't be focused on you." His fingers brushed over the back of her neck, settling on her shoulder. "Nothing has changed; this isn't going to work. We are not going to be together."

That truth hovered over them like a bad dream, but another truth, one that was just as compelling, had to be considered. "I understand, but, what if we went in with our eyes open this time?" she asked. "We could simply decide to be together for now."

He raised his brows. "For now?"

"For however long this situation lasts. When it is over, we part amicably. It has to be better than the way things ended before."

"Do you think either of us could walk away without looking back?" Stepping back, Damon walked to the French doors and looked out. He was considering, but his lack of eye contact, his unwillingness to be close, gave Elena her answer before he even said anything. "I think keeping a little distance is smarter. It is going to be tough, considering we occasionally have to look like we are a couple, but when you are around, I don't think straight."

"I see. All right. It seems we keep making mistakes with each other. It is like we are taking turns." She tried to breathe, but the air was thick, heavy. Much like her heart. "I suppose it would be best if we didn't kiss each other anymore, then." It was supposed to be a joke, but it didn't feel funny—it felt more like a tragedy.

"I'm sorry about that kiss." Damon shrugged his shoulders in acknowledgement. "I got a little out of control."

Elena nodded, folding her arms across her middle hoping to quiet the shaking in her belly. It didn't work. "I don't think you ever kissed me like that. It was…what do Americans say? It was hot."

"Yeah, well," he said as he went towards the door to the hall. "I think we should go. See you downstairs."

It took a few seconds after Damon left the room that Elena understood exactly how difficult their time together was going to be.


	7. Chapter 7

He took Elena on a tour of the town. It was a safe activity that was easy to control. Elena took obvious delight in the handful of small shops in town, although, in his opinion, the array of souvenirs did not look like her kind of art. He did not pretend to be a connoisseur, but he thought the watercolours in the local gallery looked uninspired as well. Nevertheless, he dutifully accompanied Elena around the shops. He wanted her to enjoy the day.

He thought about taking her to the nature preserve, which occupied a huge part of Dunham Lake, but it was too isolated. While people could pose a threat, he felt better having her in the open where he could fully assess the situation.

Damon also knew a quiet walk in the woods, alone with her, was not the way to keep his distance.

He was still thinking about their kiss. A kiss that was so hot he had passing thoughts about locking the door and staying in bed with her the entire day. And then her proposal? That they pick up where they left off for as long as they were stuck together? It was a bad idea.

Crazy. And he had seriously considered it. He chalked it up to several things, not the least of which was he hadn't been laid in a really long time. He was married to his job, and he didn't do casual relationships as a rule. But the thought of being with Elena again, to lose themselves in each other for however long it lasted, was very tempting.

And he couldn't do it. He had to resist the pull for both of them.

All he could hope was that the part of him that was still broken from losing her was well hidden. The kiss, and his response, confessing how much he missed her was a big mistake, and he couldn't afford any other mistakes. He told her the truth when he said he had to remain focused on her protection.

Feelings were a distraction they couldn't afford.

"This is a beautiful town. I can see why your family has made this their…what did you call it?"

"We call it the Homestead."

He glanced at her face, and enjoyed the bright smile and the sparkle in her eyes. Scrubbed clean of its heavy makeup, her natural beauty was breath-taking. That was the girl he knew in school. One who favoured old Levis to designer clothes, who almost never wore high heels.

"Why is it called that?"

"It is home base. Like I told you, it has been in the family a long time. If there is an event, a holiday, anything, it is the place we gather. Sometimes I come here when I know no one else is going to be around to do nothing except read and enjoy the scenery. It is a great place to decompress."

"Our chalet is like that. It is so beautiful, no matter what the season. I prefer it to the palace. It is smaller, more personal. My brother and I loved going on holidays there. It is on a lake…" Her voice broke, betraying the strain on her emotions before she finished her thought.

"Tell me more about the chalet." He could see she was thinking about her brother—one who had been killed by the terrorists—and while he knew talking about what was obviously a special place to them was going to bring back memories, it might help her focus on pleasant ones.

"It is in the mountains. Umm…as I said, it is smaller and more intimate than the palace. It has large windows and terraces with views of Lake Mystic Falls and nothing but nature for as far as you can see. You would love it there. It is exactly what you said about your family's house," she said excitedly. "It is a place to decompress. To get away from the real world."

"What did you do when you were there?"

"In the winter, we could ski or go snowmobiling. Sometimes we went tobogganing. If the lake was frozen enough, Papa would let us ice skate." Elena chuckled. "But my mother was too nervous one of us would fall through, so skating was usually out."

He smiled at her. "Sounds great."

"It was just fun. We had such a good time. There was usually only a minimal staff with us, and my parents made a point to stay away from work when we were there. It was nice to spend time as a family. We would cook and do some chores and get to feel like kids. Not heirs. Not royals."

"There had to be protection." He couldn't imagine them going to an isolated cabin without security.

"There were always one or two people in the house, but they had their own space. And the grounds were well guarded, but we never saw anyone. The rule was to keep a low profile. It was nice."

Her voice let him know her nerves had settled. "The great room was huge, panelled with wood, and had large comfortable furniture. You know, the kind you just sink into? We would spend our nights there in the winter making popcorn in the fireplace and playing card games. My brother would sometimes draw. I always liked reading if I had nothing to do. It is funny, I was never bored there. In the summer, we would swim in the lake as long as we were allowed, and then stay out in the garden toasting marshmallows and singing songs. We would hunt…how do you say…firebugs?"

"Lightning bugs…or fireflies. Me too. I would catch them and my grandmother would always have a jar with holes poked in the top. She would let me keep the jar in my room at night. It was the most amazing light show. And then the next day…"

"…you would let them go." Elena smiled. God, was she gorgeous when she smiled. "I did the same. It sounds as though our childhoods were not so different after all." Then she smiled again.

Maybe it was at the memory, or maybe from the understanding that she was more normal than she ever thought. Damon had to admire her parents. They did their best to make sure their children had experiences similar to other children. Even one who was thousands of miles away.

"If I learned anything from my work and being in the military is that people are just people. Whatever their status, when you break it down, we are more alike than different."

"Spoken like an American." She touched his arm reassuringly. "I mean no disrespect by that. In fact, I wish everyone thought that way. But status, as you call it, still rules how people live and behave in other parts of the world. That doesn't mean populations are oppressed, but it is different. Sometimes I feel like I'm on a pedestal, and I can't imagine why anyone would put me there. I'm not special."

"I wouldn't go that far." He could tell her a thousand ways she was special.

'No, I'm not. I'm no different than any other woman doing a job and trying to find her place in the world. I want to be loved. I want a house full of children someday. I want my work to have meaning." She was looking in the window of yet another little shop as she spoke. "But because my family has money and a name, because some distant relative won a battle here or there, somehow I'm more important than others. If you think about it, the insurgents are similar to your American patriots, except more violent. They want freedom. Aren't they calling themselves Freedom Fighters? They want equality. They don't feel the need for figurehead monarchs who sap the nation's resources."

"Elena, it is not the same and the violence is the big reason. Not to mention they are coercing your parliament, threatening attacks on civilians. You don't murder people to get the majority to bend to your will. That is terrorism. The citizens of Mystic Falls have one of the highest standards of living in the world. The highest literacy rates. Some of the best medical care. The demands being made are bullshit and the authorities in your country need to catch these bastards and make examples of them."

"The innocents," She uttered. "The people who are caught in the crossfire to make a point are my concern."

"They should be, but what do you think would happen if the insurgents succeeded in either killing your whole family, or driving you into hiding? Do you think the violence would stop?"

She swallowed hard. "Probably not, but maybe if we go into exile it will stop long enough for the authorities, for Parliament to plan…something. I don't want anyone hurt." She looked his way. "Have you spoken to my father?"

"Not since yesterday." Damon was hoping to hear from the Palace, but he kept his promise they were off the grid, so messages would be slow as they made their way through channels.

"We are making arrangements for you to talk to him, though. And your mother."

"Is she awake?"

"Not sure yet, but let's think positively." He wished he could tell her something, but there hadn't been any news.

"I'm trying. It's not always easy."


	8. Chapter 8

They drove a little more, turning onto a road and Damon pulled into a diagonal parking space. This was the place they were going to have lunch. The Dunham Cafe had been there for as long as he could remember and served the best seafood chowder. He threw the Jeep into park and smiled at her.

"Here we are."

Elena surveyed her surroundings similar to the way any professional would have. She knew the drill—then she went for the obvious. "Okay. Where are we, exactly?"

Damon thumbed over his shoulder, directing her gaze to the small weathered building behind him. "That is where we are having lunch."

Her eyes bugged out and it made him chuckle. The Dunham Cafe was not the prettiest place in town, but it had the best casual food.

"I promise you are going to thank me later."

"I am? Are you certain?"

Damon laughed at that. "Yes. Let's go."

They exited the car and Damon took her hand, out of sheer instinct, as they crossed the street.

Elena didn't pull away and as much as he knew he shouldn't have reached for her, he was glad she had relaxed a bit with him.

Once they walked into the small, fenced outdoor eating area, through the dappled sun provided by the colourful umbrellas shading the tables, Damon felt like he had come home. The sharp voice from the back of the restaurant was the other. "Damon Salvatore. You rotten kid. Where the hell have you been?"

"Oh, my goodness," Elena said quietly. "I didn't realize you were a celebrity."

"I waited tables here when I was in high school. Made enough money in tips one summer to buy a sweet car."

"That's lovely. And the person screaming at you?"

"Bree. She and her husband own the place. Dropped out of their crazy lives in New York and moved out here about twenty years ago."

Bree had come out of the open kitchen and was approaching quickly. He hadn't seen her in five years, but she looked very much the same as the last time he had been to The Dunham Cafe. Her curly shoulder length, dark hair was pulled back and her large, dark eyes were full of mischief. She reached out and wrapped him in a hug.

Then she smacked him on the arm. It was all he could do not to laugh when Elena's eyes went wide. "How many times have you been home and you haven't been down to see me? What's that all about?"

"I'm sorry. I will never do it again."

"Damn right." Bree's eyes turned and looked Elena up and down. A knowing smile edged her mouth. "And you brought a friend. I'm Bree. It is nice to meet you…"

"Elena." She shook hands without hesitation.

"This is Elena Sommers." Damon paused. "My girlfriend."

Bree smiled. "It is about damn time."

"It is a pleasure to meet you. I love seeing all Damon's old haunts. This is such a lovely place."

Bree's eyes narrowed. Elena's accent was just enough to make his old boss wonder about the woman he was with.

"I think it is safe to say you are not from around here, are you, Elena?"

"No," she said, looking to him for guidance, but then making a snap decision. "I'm Swiss."

Perfect. There wasn't a person around here who would question she was from Switzerland.

Bree grabbed her arm. "Switzerland. Like where they make chocolate?"

Elena nodded. "Yes, the Swiss, the Belgians, the Dutch. There's some lovely chocolate in that part of Europe."

Bree dropped her head in mock worship, then looked at Damon and nodded. "I like her. She can stay." He was glad to see that Elena was enjoying the attention, and not finding Bree insulting. "Go sit down, I will bring out your usual. Two?"

"Yes. Thanks." He guided Elena to a small umbrella table. It was still early in the season, technically not even summer yet, and since it was a weekday, everything was pretty quiet. There were only three other tables occupied in the whole place.

"Your usual?" she said as he pulled out her chair.

"I get the same thing every time I come in for lunch. You are having it, too. You need to sample the local fare."

"Oh. What if I don't like it?" It was a valid question, but it didn't matter.

"You will. Trust me."

"But what if I don't? It is possible, Damon."

"Do I have to remind you of the weekend we went to Paris?"

Her eyes narrowed at the reminder, then she looked away. "This place is quite nice," she said.

Obviously, Elena didn't want to talk about Paris.

"You told me to let you order for me? I ended up eating pasta made with octopus ink?" Damon reminded her.

"I was helping you expand your palate," she defended. "You needed to eat something other than hamburgers, fish and chips, or shepherd's pie."

"I ate snails," he said.

"Escargot and it was delicious."

"Goose liver."

"Pate de fois gras."

"Fish eggs."

She glared at him. "Caviar! Oh, good grief. Stop it, now you are just being contrary."

He laughed, enjoying every annoyed look she sent in his direction. It was only a few minutes when two beers appeared on their table. No glasses, just the bottles.

He took a long pull on his, letting the cold brew make its way down. After waiting a few minutes for her glass to show up, and realizing it wasn't going to, Elena did the same.

"Bree truly adores you. It is sweet to see how you two are with each other. She is like your big sister."

"She is good people," Damon agreed. "Gave me a job when no one would hire me."

"Why was that?"

"I was a little bit of a hell raiser. Got into some trouble."

"You were? And now look at you. What changed?"

"My girlfriend dumped me."

"Oh, no. Smartened you up a bit, I guess," she teased.

He smiled, leaned back in his chair and sipped his beer. "That is for sure. I was seventeen and she was the sixteen-year-old, youngest daughter of a very wealthy family. They had rented a house for the season and she and I met at the beach."

Elena thought about it. "A summer romance. I never had one of those."

"There's nothing better when you are a teenager. Heat, hormones, and angst, make for some great memories."

Now picking at the label on her beer, he could see her bottled-up nerves. "So tell me about your lost love," she said.

"Ah. You want to hear about my humiliation? Her name was Katherine and she was a brunette, just like you, and beautiful. Sweet as sugar. I gave up my rowdy teenage ways for her."

"I doubt you were that rowdy."

"I got in my share of trouble. Nothing serious, but her parents didn't like that their only daughter was getting mixed up with a local. So, when the end of the summer came and her family had a big party to send off the season, I wasn't invited. I thought it was a mistake, so I showed up. Her father and her uncle kicked the crap out of me."

"Oh, that's mean. That's awful. It is not like you were robbing banks." Elena was so angry for him, it made him smile. "Snobs. I have no use for snobs. I hope she married badly."

"Things have a funny way of working out, you know? I straightened up, obviously. But a couple of years ago I was in on a joint operation with the SEC, and one of the guys arrested was Katherine's father. Apparently, he had been laundering money for some very shady characters. He is in prison now."

Elena clapped her hands together in celebration. "Oh, that is brilliant. I love it. Did he recognize you?"

"Not at first. I reminded him when I cuffed him and marched him out in front of his entire staff. I'm not normally into payback, but the bastard broke my nose. I think I was entitled to that one."

Clinking her beer bottle to his she smiled. "Here's to justice being served."

Justice. He doubted Elena felt justice was at work where her family was concerned. He sensed she felt life was treating them pretty unfairly.

They went quiet. It wasn't a difficult silence, but an easy one. The kind of silence you could have with an old friend or lover. Comforting. And unnerving. They had slipped into old habits so easily—walking closely, light touches, inside jokes, offering a napkin or a smile without any prompting. Their brains might have been begging them to keep the relationship friendly, but there were other things at work. Like their hearts.

"I like your uncle. Very much," she offered quietly. "The influence he has had over you is quite obvious."

"He is a good man. Stefan and I were lucky to have him when my father died, but I have always had an extra bond with Uncle Zach."

"How many siblings did you father have?"

"My grandparents raised two boys and two girls. I can only imagine the insanity." He laughed to himself. Knowing the kind of trouble he got into, he thought about multiplying that by four and was convinced there should have been an award for surviving that kind of stress.

"But what fun. All those children. I'm sure it was never boring."

The way she smiled at him right then brought back all the memories of the first time they met. He was a first semester graduate fellow in International Studies when she came into the department office to meet with a professor she was working with on some special research project. It was unusual for an undergrad, but the fire in her eyes, the intelligence, told Damon this girl was anything but usual. He liked her immediately.

Their second meeting they exchanged names. The third time they ran into each other in the library. The same with the fourth, but that was when Damon asked her out for coffee, and she said yes. Their friendship grew and two months after their first meeting, Damon asked Elena out on an official date.

It was the first time he kissed her.

His heart hadn't been the same since.

He was brought back to reality by Bree who placed two seafood chowder and a plate of crusty bread on the table.

"I dare you to find better than that."

Bree smacked him on the shoulder before walking away. Elena was staring at her chowder.

"I will say this looks quite edible, but I would like to know exactly what I'm eating. Obviously, we have bread," she pointed at the crusty bread. "And this looks like soup?"

"This is seafood chowder. A chowder is basically thick and creamy soup usually made with seafood. It can be served as a meal on its own or as a starter. It is especially good when mopped up with crusty bread."

"Oh. So nothing I have to be wary of?"

"No. There is no octopus ink in this."

She giggled as she dipped her crusty bread in the chowder, then took a bite. "It was squid ink and you have to admit, that was a fun night."

Damon rolled his eyes. "For you. It was fun for you."

Elena took another bite of the crusty bread and the only way Damon could have described her face was pure joy as she started to enjoy her lunch. It was almost as good as watching her eat the Twinkie.

"Good?" he asked, taking a bite of his crusty bread.

"Divine." Reaching out for his hand, breaking the rules they had agreed upon, Elena laced her fingers with his. "Thank you for bringing me here and for introducing me to Bree. I see that she's special to you."

"She is. I'm glad you could meet her." He should have pulled his hand back, but he didn't. Instead he squeezed her hand tight and let the warmth that was uniquely Elena go right to his core. Agreeing to be her bodyguard was a huge mistake. Right then and there, when their eyes locked and held, Damon knew he would never be objective where she was concerned.

x x x

Elena wandered the aisles of the market pushing the basket that Damon was filling with food.

He had picked up steaks they would grill for dinner, as well as the things all good pantries should have. Elena was overwhelmed at the selection because she never did shop for food, but she was also taken aback by how little of the food was fresh. What did he say about the Twinkies she so loved? They could last on a shelf for over thirty years? That was a tad frightening, but she had no intention of giving up her new favourite thing, which she spotted on the shelf at that very moment.

She picked two boxes and put them into the cart while he was scanning the different loaves of bread. It made Elena think of the bakeries that dotted every street in the market district at home. There were cheese shops, sweet shops, and butchers all bunched together, with each one offering not only fresh food, but an experience. It was something these large markets lacked, in her country and here.

Every once in a while, someone would stop Damon to say hello and ask after his mum or Zach, his aunts, or his brother. Damon's younger brother, Stefan, was a surgeon working in New York, and was asked for often. The Salvatores were a well-liked and respected part of the community, and Elena fell for him a little bit more every minute.

Damon was a good man. The very best and she loved him more now than she did ten years ago. In just two days she learned about the man he had become-the public servant, the son, the nephew, the neighbour. But love wasn't part of this equation. They were no closer to being together, in fact, with her position; they were farther apart than ever before. And Elena had to get the fantasy that they had a chance out of her head.

"Elena? Two boxes?" Looking up she saw Damon holding one box of Twinkies in each of his large, beautiful hands. He didn't look please.

She warned him. "Don't you dare put those back."

He sighed. "Fine, I won't. I may add another box. It looks like we might be stuck at the house for a couple of days. There is a bad storm heading our way. I just got an alert from the Bureau."

Her eyes widened. "A storm? What kind of storm?"

Glancing at his smartphone, he grimaced. "It looks we are going to get a pretty good tropical storm. Lots of rain."

"We won't have a problem?"

"No. We will just stock up on essentials, some bottled water, batteries. We will get some comfort food."

She nodded, a little nervous, because she had never gone through something like a tropical storm before. They had blizzards in Mystic Falls, but the country was landlocked, and mountainous.

"Come on," he said. "We better get our provisions before the crowd gets here."

Damon took the cart from her and she followed, picking up things that wouldn't spoil should they be stranded or without power.

Just as he predicted as word of the storm hit the Dunham Lake, the people were out in force. By the time she and Damon had paid for the items, the store was very busy. It amazed Elena how quickly people could mobilize when they heard about foul weather, it actually had her a little worried.

"Why did you only just hear about the storm?" Weren't they able to forecast the weather more than two days in advance?

"The best I can tell you is that it was originally supposed to go out to sea. It didn't. It changed course and is heading in our direction." He glanced over as he drove. "There is nothing to worry about. I have been through storms much worse than this one."

"Okay. I will try to think of it as an adventure. It is new for me, though. I have never been through anything like this."

"There is a first time for everything."

 _Right. Damon is with you, there is nothing to worry about,_ Elena told herself.

When they arrived home, Damon saw Zach on a ladder taping a large second floor window. He tended to over prepare for storms of any kind, but Elena didn't know that and her eyes went wide. "It is just a precaution," Damon reassured her.

"Why does he do that?"

"So that the glass doesn't shatter," he explained. "He will only do it with the big windows and doors."

"Oh."

That was all she said.

"Come on. Let's get the groceries inside. Then we can give him a hand."

Elena nodded and to her credit grabbed two of the grocery sacks from the back of the car.

There was no pretence, no hesitation, she just pitched in and helped. It was one more thing he remembered about her. And why he never suspected she was royal.

Her ability to be kind, helpful…normal…were all reasons he believed they'd had a future.

Fighting the urge to try again with her was taking everything he had. He knew it couldn't happen because their situation was no better, in truth, it was worse. The reality was they would never have a future.

Zach came down from the ladder and handed him the masking tape.

"I don't think the storm is going to be a problem, but the big windows have all been taped just in case. She is already weakening, but winds will be hitting seventy miles an hour by the time it makes landfall in our neck of the woods. It is supposed to pass to the west."

"Great." Damon knew they would have an easier time if the storm passed to the east, but he couldn't control it, so he was glad they were ready.

"A package came for you. I'm guessing it is the secure phone you requested."

"Good. Elena really needs to talk to her family. It has only been two days and no matter how many times I tell her they are okay, I don't think she believes me."

"Are they okay?"

Damon locked eyes with his uncle and looked at the door to make sure they were alone before he answered. "They aren't dead, but they are going into hiding. Maybe even permanent exile."

A soft whistle escaped his uncle's lips. "That is huge."

"I know. I haven't figured out how I'm going to tell her."

Folding up the a-frame ladder, his uncle lifted it and took two steps. "I'm leaving for Florida later tonight after supper, unless you want me to stay."

"Were you able to get another flight?" Damon didn't like the idea of his uncle travelling when the storm was on its way.

"Hell no. I'm driving."

"Driving? You will be going right into the rain and wind. Did you bump your head when you were on the ladder?"

"Don't be a smart ass. My flight was cancelled, and everything else was booked, so I will head west, and then south. Stay out of trouble that way."

This didn't sound like his uncle. Normally, the man would be keeping his eye on the homestead during a storm, now he was leaving?

"Uh huh. Trouble, right. Have you heard from Mum, or any of your sisters?"

"Oh, yeah. Your mother will be here in a week or so. Your aunties will be around if you need help after the storm. Call the sheriff if it is an emergency."

Damon didn't know what to think about his uncle leaving. Either the man was relieved that he wasn't the only one capable of holding down the fort, or he wanted to leave Damon and Elena alone to see what would happen.

It wouldn't matter. The pull towards Elena might be close to irresistible, but as he kept reminding himself, they didn't have a future together. He wasn't about to make the same mistake twice.

Entering the house with the rest of the groceries, he found her leaning on the kitchen counter, biting her thumbnail while watching the small TV in the kitchen. She had tuned it to a local news program that was giving information about the storm and he could see from her stiff back and the furrow between her brows, that she was worried.

"If you don't stop chewing that finger, there won't be anything left," he quipped.

"Sorry. I'm nervous."

"It is going to be okay. If I didn't think you would be safe here, I would move you."

"I know that, but this is new for me," she said softly. "And everyone is making such a fuss."

"If they didn't make a fuss, no one would watch TV."

"I suppose." Elena flipped off the television and stood upright. "What is in the box?"

She didn't miss a thing. He had placed the box with the secure phone on the top of one of the grocery bags, and she had spotted it immediately.

"Something that should make you happy." He had a small pen knife on his key chain and slit the top of the box. Sure enough, he pulled out what looked like a plain black cell phone.

"Oh," she said softly. "Does this mean I can call my family?"

"Let me see." He powered up, and once it connected he smiled at her. "Want to give them a call?"

She nodded, her eyes filling with tears. He knew it would be emotional for her, but seeing the combination of relief and apprehension on her face affected him as well. He pressed a few buttons and let the phone connect. Her father answered almost immediately. "Elena?"

"No, sir. It is Damon Salvatore. The princess is right here. Let me give her the phone."

Elena lunged at the phone, grabbing it from Damon's hand. "Papa? Oh, Papa."

The tears fell and as much as Damon's instinct was to comfort her, he left the room so she could speak privately with her family. He didn't know what they would tell her, if there would be many details, but he knew this was going to be emotional for her.

Emotional Elena. Damon was glad she had the chance to talk to her family, if only to ease her mind, but he wondered what he was in for when she found everything he hadn't been telling her.


	9. Chapter 9

"I'm so happy to talk to you, my darling girl. You are well?"

"Yes, everything is fine. Damon has made sure I'm in a very safe place."

"He told me. It sounds perfect. I'm very grateful to him." Elena couldn't tell her father that being with Damon was both a burden and a gift at the same time.

"The place is lovely, too. But we are waiting for a storm to pass now. It is expected late tomorrow and will be over by the next morning."

"How bad a storm?" Her father wanted to know.

"He said the town has seen worse."

"Alright, but if you feel the least bit worried, you call and I will see what I can do for you."

"Thank you, Papa." There wasn't anything he could do from another continent, but she appreciated his protectiveness. For as hard as her mother was, her father was a warm, sweet man. "How are you? And Mama? Is she recovering?"

"I'm fine. Mama is doing much better. She is awake, alert, and eating. We are still making her rest, but she will recover fully."

"Where are you? I mean is the country safe?"

There was silence on the line. At first she thought she had been disconnected because it went on longer than the usual pregnant pause. "Papa?"

"We have left the country. We are in hiding and there is a real possibility we won't be returning until this is all sorted out."

Words failed her for a moment. "I see. I'm glad you are all safe. But, Papa…" Now she was the one who went quiet. How did she ask a question for which she really didn't want the answer? "Will you be able to return?"

Her father drew a long, shaky breath. "I don't know. Your mother is distraught. She has no idea why Parliament is not moving to support the monarchy. It makes no sense. The citizens do not want us to leave."

"I don't know what to say." Her family had no home. No country.

"There is nothing to say. We will still be able to live. We have means. We have family in other parts of the world. There are people in more dire straits."

"Of course. You are right, of course."

"I am glad," he began and then stopped. "I am glad Damon was there to keep you safe."

And that was the other question that had been running around in her head. How did he know that Damon would be in the position to protect her? "How did you know about that? That he worked for the government. I would have thought you wanted that part of my life erased."

He chuckled. "My dear, you are under the impression that we didn't like the young man. That is not true. Just because you couldn't be with him because of your station, doesn't mean we thought he was unworthy. The two are very different."

"I see." The lecture her mother had given her in the car after they left Damon's flat that morning was exactly the opposite. Her mother chided her for ruining herself. That she may not be able to marry because she had given up her virginity. Even when she was twenty-one, her mother had been trying to make a suitable match. It still hadn't happened.

The sexual revolution and gender equality had missed many royals. The men still wanted virgin brides.

"I had been keeping tabs on Mr Salvatore. I knew he was part of their law enforcement community and that he was heading up your protection detail while in the United States. When you were in danger, I called upon him."

"I wish you hadn't done that, Papa. Putting Damon in this position—it hardly seems right after the way I hurt him."

"What do you think I asked of him?" Her father inquired. "I went to him for advice. He volunteered to look after you the minute I got him on the phone. I said it might not be the best idea, that I wanted you to come home, but once he shared some of their intelligence, I knew you would be safer in the US."

"He volunteered?" Damon hadn't told her that. "I didn't know…"

"He didn't want you to know, but I told him I wasn't about to keep you in the dark. I will be honest; I felt better knowing he would be with you. The connection you two have shared has to be driving him. If it keeps you safe, that is all that concerns me."

"He has been very kind. He has also been insufferable, but mostly kind."

"He knows what is at stake, Elena."

 _Damn, Damon. Why did you have to do this? Someone else—anyone else—could have protected me. I could have gone home…_

"I know what you are thinking, Elena. You couldn't have come home. We were on our way out of the country in twelve hours. There was no home to go to."

 _No home to go to._ The words echoed in her head.

"Oh, my God, Papa. What is going to happen?"

He paused again. "I don't know. I just don't know."

Silence dropped between her and her father as the gravity of the situation consumed her. There was nothing left to say.

"Please give my love to Mama. I will call again soon."

"Yes," her father said sweetly. "Soon. Stay safe during this storm. I will be anxious to hear about it."

"Good-bye, Papa."

Once the call ended, Elena placed the phone gently on the kitchen table. Damon insisted he be the one to protect her. He discouraged her father from letting her go home.

She didn't know if she should throttle the man or kiss him senseless.

Elena ran her hand across her chest. The ache for him was so very real. It had never completely gone away, but it had been quieter when they were apart. Now, though? Since they had been thrown together? She wanted him so badly.

Her heart called for him. It always had. From the first moment she met him in the offices on campus. It was always Damon, with his soul deep, smouldering blue-grey eyes, his blazing intelligence, and his sweet smile.

Elena had been miserable without him. She had functioned. She'd had a life, such as it was, but she had never been able to feel the way she had with Damon. Her brother had been angry with her for a very long time, constantly chiding her for being flat and uncaring towards their mother, but it was hard to be happy about anything.

Caroline would crawl into her bed at night, holding Elena while she cried for the man she had lost. Her maid was the only one who had openly comforted her. Her father was kind to a fault, but he didn't know what to do for her.

Now after working so hard to stop missing him, Damon threw himself back into her life and more than likely setting her on the path to missing him once again.

x x x

The storm crashed Dunham Lake shortly after ten o'clock. Zach had left after an early supper at six that evening, leaving Damon and Elena alone. She recalled Zach's words before he left.

 _Don't be too tough on him, okay? He loves you. That's all that really matters and don't forget it._

Now she and Damon had to deal with the next two days of being together without Zach as a buffer. Depending on what she wanted, that could be a good thing, or a very bad one.

The problem was, Elena wasn't sure herself. But she knew she loved Damon.

She put down her cards. "Gin."

"Damn. Not again." Damon tossed his cards onto the cushion between them. He sprawled against the back of the sofa and regarded her with a malevolent expression. "Are you sure you haven't played gin rummy before? You are so good in this."

She shook her head. "This is the first time I have come across with this game."

"Didn't realise you were the competitive type."

"I can be competitive in some ways. Besides, it was your idea to play gin rummy."

"I wasn't concentrating. Had my mind on other things."

"Yeah, sure. You say that because you lose to me." She looked out the window into the heavy darkness. "That rain is going to get worse before it gets better."

"Don't worry. Nothing is going to happen to you." He reassured her.

There was a brief silence.

"I don't know where they are," she finally said. "Papa didn't tell me. Just that they are all together. I'm assuming they aren't in Mystic Falls anymore."

"I don't think they are," Damon replied.

"He didn't tell me much. My mother is going to be okay, so that is good news."

"I know you were worried about her. I'm glad to hear it."

"Did you know that, Damon? About my mother?"

"I hadn't been given that information, no." That was the truth. Miranda's condition was well-guarded. Everything about the royal family was now highly restricted. The only information he'd had access to directly affected Elena.

She looked at him. "Did you know that my family will probably never be able to go home again?"

He didn't say anything. How could he tell her that had been made aware of the situation before they left two days ago?

He thought about that. Two days. If felt like a lifetime had happened in forty-eight hours.

"You aren't saying anything so I'm guessing you know the truth, then. I am officially homeless, and jobless."

"Elena…" He didn't know how to comfort her. There was nothing fair or right about what was happening.

She was calm. So calm it worried him a little. "I don't know where my family is. I'm in a strange country. And now I have no home." She sighed. "Am I still a target for the terrorists?"

He nodded. "We believe so, yes."

"Okay. There's that, too. I mean just to round it out."

"It is all going to sort itself out. The terrorists are not going to get away with this."

"Maybe not, in the long run," she said. "But my country is so tiny, Damon, and they have no stomach for violence. They are going to want to save lives, and I can't blame them."

Everything he was hearing made sense. She had thought about it, and with that big, wonderful brain of hers, knew the safest course of action. He didn't agree with it and wished he could help her fight.

"I just don't know what that means for us. Will we be in hiding forever? Are we always going to be at risk, even when the new ruler is in place?"

"You are projecting and you can't do that. It is a waste of energy."

"Maybe so, but it is all I can do when people are keeping secrets from me. People I want to trust, but now know I can't."

This time there was no glancing around, no questions. Elena nailed him with her gaze and expected him to explain himself.

"You have been keeping things from me, Special Agent Salvatore."

"Yes, madam," he confessed. "I have."

She uncoiled from the depths of the sofa and walked to the window. She could hear the rain on the roof, and the darkness on the other side of the window remained immutable. Just like the world outside.

"I didn't think you would actually lie to me, Damon."

"I didn't lie," he said coming to her side. "I didn't tell you everything, but I didn't lie."

"Are we going to go round and round about this? I'm not a child." She faced him and poked her index finger into his chest. She was angry, and he supposed he deserved it. "You didn't tell me about my family," she snapped. "Why not? Did you think I was too weak or fragile for the truth?"

She was pissed at him.

Really pissed.

Grabbing her hand and holding her palm flat over his heart was a mistake he might regret. Everything in him responded to her. "Never, in all the time I have known you, have I ever thought you were anything but strong, smart, and compassionate. But I wanted to protect you, to give you a break from something you couldn't control. I'm sorry."

There was another brief silence.

"What is going to happen to us?" she asked after a moment. "We have nothing. What will we do?"

"I wish I had a simple answer, but your family will have support. They already do from relatives and people who are loyal to them. From what I understand, other governments are offering protection, or asylum. Every one of you will land on your feet, whether you are in Mystic Falls or not."

"But I have no home. I talked to my father, and he sounds so defeated. My mother must be crushed." Her voice was small, weak, and Damon's heart broke for her.

"It is going to be okay, I promise. It will."

"I know you want to protect me. You want to keep me safe."

"Everything is going to be okay."

Elena reached out to stroke his face. She was so close, only inches away. So close he could feel the warmth of her body. So close her scent stirred his blood. So close he could see the invitation in her eyes.

"If I tell you that I want you to kiss me, will you tell me to go back to bed?"

He swallowed. "Elena, don't do this…"

"This is a take-it-or-leave-it offer. And for the record, it has got nothing to do with the fact that you did a lot to help me. I will remind you that I wanted to kiss you before when I saw you again."

"You are feeling emotional at the moment, Elena. You are vulnerable."

"That does it, I have had enough." She took a decisive step away from him. "For the record, I am not too emotionally vulnerable to make an informed decision tonight. In spite of appearances to the contrary, I do know what I'm doing—or at least what I wanted to do before you so rudely implied otherwise."

"Damn it, Elena…"

She was already on the stairs, heading back to her bedroom.

"Forget it," she called down to him. "I don't want to hear any more excuses. If you don't want to go to bed with me, just say so. I promise to stop bothering you."

"Elena, wait."

He broke through the trance and started after her.

He made it to the top of the stairs in time to see her disappear into the shadows of the bedroom.

The door slammed shut just as he reached it. He pushed it open again before she could lock it. She stood her ground, very fierce and proud. And incredibly exciting.

He stopped abruptly. "You don't understand."

"What, exactly, do I fail to grasp about this situation?"

"The future."

"What about the future?"

"I can't offer you one."

She wanted to scream at him. "I don't have a home anymore, Damon. It looks like we will be in hiding forever. What kind of future do I have in the first place?"

He winced. "Look, this is complicated."

"How complicated? Are you going to tell me that you have got a wife and kids stashed away somewhere?"

"No."

"You don't find it odd that neither of us married during all these years?"

"No," Damon said, but he was lying and he knew it.

She stared at him for a beat. Then she went off like a volcano.

"Don't lie to me, Damon Salvatore," she said. "There is something between us all this time."

Her voice was harsh with indignation, anger, and—maybe—pain. Or maybe—just maybe—those were the emotions tearing through him.

"Dammit!" Damon swore, angrily shoving a hand through the side of his hair. "I didn't expect this. Not this." He moved closer to her. "Will it make you feel better if I admit that you haunted me for years after you left Oxford? Well, you did!"

She closed the short distance between them, clamped her hands around his shoulders, stood on tiptoe, and kissed him.

It was a kiss fuelled by the energy that had been charging the atmosphere between them for the past few days; a kiss that carried the fire of adrenaline and frustration and anger.

And it acted like a powerful accelerant for the hunger that had been simmering deep inside him since the day he met her.

"I don't know where I'm going, or what is going to happen next," she whispered against his mouth. "Please don't tell me we can't be together. Even for now. I need you. Just love me for now."

"To hell with our issues and the future," he said against her mouth. "All I care about right now is tonight."

"Tonight works for me."


	10. Chapter 10

Elena took great fistfuls of Damon's T-shirt in both hands and wrenched her mouth away from his.

"Last time we stopped because you claimed you didn't think I knew what I was doing," she said. "Tonight you can't use that excuse. Do you understand that?"

He trapped her face between his hands. "It wasn't an excuse."

"It was as far as I'm concerned. So, one more thing you need to know—if you want to stop tonight, you are going to have to flat-out tell me you don't want me. No more pretending you are trying to do what is right for me. Got that?"

He looked at her with eyes that were a little savage. "Damn, woman. Do you always talk this much before you get into bed?"

He didn't wait for a response, which was a good thing because she had no ready answer to the question.

He captured her mouth in a kiss that told her all she needed to know. This time he would not be calling a halt. Only she could stop this, and that was the last thing she wanted to do.

She wound her arms around his neck and opened her mouth for him. There was nothing practiced or deliberately seductive about the kiss because the simple truth was that she had never kissed anyone else in this way—with such excitement and need and anticipation.

This was a kiss that broke the rules. And she didn't care about the rules at the moment.

Damon's response was equally primal, devoid of the artistry and finesse of the skilled lover. It was raw and elemental and it told her more clearly than words that tonight was different for him, too.

That was reason enough to break the rules.

They fumbled their way to the bed. By the time they reached it she was unnerved and shivering and taking in oxygen as though it were a rare and fleeting commodity.

Damon released her long enough to get out of his T-shirt, pants, and briefs. When he turned back to face her, she sensed his subtle hesitation and knew that he was waiting for her to reaffirm her decision. It dawned on her that she was not the only one in the room who was in uncharted territory. Damon needed to know that she still wanted him now that he stood naked before her.

She moved closer and once again stood on tiptoe to kiss him. His rigid erection pushed against her thigh. She reached down and took him gently in her hand.

He groaned and pulled her closer. Their hearts, minds, and bodies were matched. "God," he said. "I have missed you."

"I have missed you, too. I just want to be with you. That's all I have wanted since I met you."

Without any hesitation, Damon said what he had wanted to say since she blew back into his life.

"I love you, Elena."

"I have done nothing to deserve you, but I need you. And I don't need you for protection. I just need you."

"You have me." She would always have him.

Rain pounded on the roof of the cottage. Wind lashed at the windows. Electricity arced in the atmosphere. The night was alive and so was she.

She was flying now, lost in a glorious haze of pure desire. Some part of her knew it was irrational. Nevertheless, in that moment she dared to believe that she was just a normal woman because she was in the arms of a sexy man who seemed to want her as much as she wanted him.

And she did not doubt that Damon wanted her—his rigid erection and the achingly tender way he touched her intoxicated and seduced her. He handled her as if she were the most valuable, most amazing, most exquisite creation that he had ever encountered.

He picked her up and tumbled her down onto the bed. Her shoes thudded softly on the rug. He straightened and opened a drawer in the nightstand. When he returned to bed, she caught a glimpse of a small foil packet.

He sheathed himself and then he was on the quilt with her, looming over her, caging her between his arms. He tugged the T-shirt off over her head. Unfastened the satin bra. Excitement sent another flood of brilliant colours through her when he touched her breasts. She could hardly breathe. All of her senses sharpened and focused.

Damon slid one leg between her thighs. He shifted his mouth back to hers in a heavy, drugging kiss.

She gripped his shoulders, digging her fingers into his bare skin. She could hear the storm swirling outside the house, weaving a magic force field that held the rest of the world at bay. At least for now.

His hands moved on her again. Her shorts disappeared. They were soon followed by her panties. She took a quick, sharp breath when she felt his fingers on the inside of her leg. She craved his touch. She did not want any other man to touch her. Just Damon.

His hips moved against her, encouraging her to part her legs for him. When she accepted the invitation, he touched her more deeply still, drawing forth a response that stunned her. A great urgency tightened her insides.

"Yes," she whispered. "Yes. Now."

He surged into her at that moment. She had never felt so full, so tight and so incredibly sensitive. Dazzled, all she could do was grab him and hang on for dear life. Beneath her clutching fingers, his back was damp with sweat.

He drove into her again and again. Another series of waves crashed through her. A moment later he went rigid, back arched, and then his own climaxed slammed through him, pounding into her. He gave an exultant, half-choked shout.

They hung together as if suspended over a vast darkness.

And then Damon collapsed, sprawling heavily on top of her.

The first thing she noticed when she awoke a long time later was that she could not move. Damon had her pinned to the bed with one heavy arm wrapped around her midsection and a muscular leg thrown across her thigh.

The second thing she became aware of was that the storm winds had died down. She could still hear gentle rain on the roof, and the darkness on the other side of the window remained immutable. But the world outside was a much quieter, calmer place than it had been earlier.

"You awake?" Damon asked.

"Yes."

He shifted a little, settling her more comfortably into the curve of his body. "What are you thinking about?"

She smiled into the pillow and said nothing.

He nibbled gently on her shoulder. "Tell me."

"I have never wanted anyone else, only you. I love you, Damon, and if I have my way, we will never have to be apart."

He brushed a lock of hair from her face. "What do you mean?"

"I can't control what happens with my family and my country. As long as they are safe, I don't care about the throne. I'm not losing you again because of my "station" in life. I choose you and as long as you choose me, we will be together."

He smiled. "When I'm with you, Elena, I'm happy. Of course, I choose you."

She smiled, rolled him onto his back and kissed his throat, his chest, and then she went lower. He caught hold of her arms and pulled her back up his body so that she sat astride him.

"But I have to know, are you sure?" he asked. "I do think your family will be back in Mystic Falls before the year is over. What will that mean for us?"

Reaching down, Elena touched his very impressive erection, and he sucked in an audible breath. "Christ," he hissed.

"It means, if you are willing to be part of that life, you will one day be making love to the queen."

He hesitated for a second and then nodded. "Alright then, I guess I'd better start practicing on the princess."

To the princess's great pleasure, Special Agent Salvatore did just that and made her the happiest woman on the earth.


	11. Chapter 11

She was gone when he woke up.

"Elena."

Damn.

Where did she go? Pulling on his pants, Damon went to look for his princess.

God, she was so hungry. Elena didn't remember sex making her felt like she wanted to eat everything, but the last time she had awakened in Damon's arms, her mother and the royal entourage had made a surprise visit.

She heard Damon calling her from upstairs and then thought she should have waited for him before running off for food. But he would find her, and when he did she hoped he would make love to her again.

Elena couldn't ever remember being so happy. Even when she was with Damon before, the cloud of being discovered hung over her head. Now, whatever happened, Elena would find a way to be with him whether her mother liked it or not. She loved him too much to lose him again.

Pulling open the pantry door, she reached in for her new favourite thing, her Twinkies.

She didn't know if they were a breakfast food in America, but they should be. The delicious little cakes would be perfect with tea as well. She was two bites into her first cake when Damon stepped into the room, put his hands on his hips and shook his head.

"Really?"

He grinned at her, and it was so delicious her woman parts warmed for him all over again. "Yes, really. Don't be so stuffy."

"Stuffy?" He approached her with such purpose, Elena didn't know exactly what she was in for, but she didn't care as long as Damon was involved. When his hand shot out and took the Twinkie she tried to get it back, but he held it over his head. A game. There was no way she could reach it, but when she caught the mischievous gleam in his eye, Elena knew she had to try.

Even if it was just for fun.

"Give me my Twinkie," she said.

He grinned and shook his head. "Make me."

Planting her hands firmly on her hips, Elena smirked at him. "Are you really going to play with me like this?"

He chuckled and lunged for her. With one arm, Damon grabbed her around the waist and hauled her in. When she was tight against his hard chest, and her arms pinned behind her, he teased her, bringing the golden cake to her lips for a taste and then pulling it away. "No. I'm playing with you like this."

All Elena could think was that there was never going to be anything sexier than what was happening to her at that moment.

She snaked her arms around his neck and pulled him down for a kiss. Elena was convinced there was never a bad time for one of Damon's kisses, his lips were full and soft and when she pulled back and looked into his blue-grey eyes, she felt like she could see his heart. And he was happy. Happy with her.

Feeling bold, Elena touched her lips to the centre of his chest. He was so perfectly formed-his taut, olive-toned skin was lightly dusted with hair and covered smooth, defined muscles.

"I have a question for you," he said.

"Okay." Questions from Damon could be anything from 'why are you eating this chemical nightmare,' to 'what do you think about the economic sanctions in the Middle East.' He was always unpredictable.

"How is it you have never been with anyone else?"

Oh, that wasn't expected. How did she explain it?

The truth was probably best, humiliating or not. "Well. Uh, when I went back to the palace after leaving Oxford, it took a long time for me to get over you." This was already harder than she thought. "I never really did, to be honest, but at some point following my return, Mother decided it was time for them to find a husband. There was one noble in Mystic Falls who was the frontrunner—a Count. Very old family."

He frowned. "She just decided this? Without your input?"

"Input? You think I had a choice? This is the way it is done. The way it has been done."

"Archaic."

"Yes, but my feelings about the matter were irrelevant. Just like the relationship with you. It was forbidden. So, I was courted by a few nobles—highly prized—a prince and a few dukes mostly, but Count Matt was still my mother's favourite."

Damon's eyes narrowed. He was angry on her behalf, which was another reason to love him. "Matt was a pleasant man, but he was ten years my senior and…" She paused. "Unremarkable. However, he was the perfect consort for the daughter. There was no risk he would overshadow my brother."

"It didn't matter who you married, just that he had a title."

She nodded. Letting the injustice of it all seep in. "Jeremy could do whatever he wanted. If he didn't marry until he was forty, it wasn't seen as a problem. Me? They wanted me out of the way. Matt was perfect for that purpose."

"But you weren't interested?" She was sure he didn't mean to, but Damon looked relieved and Elena loved that he was a tad jealous.

"No, I only wanted you. When I had no affection for any of the men, several honourably bowed out. Two were still vying for my hand, but finally, I was deemed unsuitable once it was discovered I wasn't a virgin."

A crooked smile bloomed on Damon's face. "Is that so?"

"I was soiled. Ruined."

Damon moved his face close to hers. His eyes, were smiling and Elena knew she had been found out. "You knew that would happen."

"I beg your pardon?" She feigned offense. "What are you insinuating?"

He laughed. "When you slept with me, you knew you would be 'ruined.'"

Only Damon would understand her like this-only the man with whom her heart was joined.

The truth was the one thing they had between them now, and she wasn't going to respect that. "I knew it would matter to one of the Dukes and to Count Matt. They were the ones who would have accepted an arrangement from my mother without much care over how I felt." His hands were rubbing her back and Elena was aware of how this sounded. Like she used him to get out of marriage. "I made love with you because I wanted you. I loved you so much, and I didn't want to wait."

He kissed her softly, and then pulled her into a hug. "I'm glad. The thought of a couple of old pervs having their hands on you pisses me off. How could your mother do that?"

"She thought she was doing the right thing. But I almost committed murder when the old Count sniffed and said he could never marry someone with such "loose morals." The dirty old bastard almost had my knee in his crotch. He came sniffing around again after my brother died and I was now heir to the throne. The pompous arse."

Damon was laughing now to the point of shaking.

"I'm glad you are finding this funny," she said dryly.

"I am eternally grateful that the dirty old bastard pissed you off so thoroughly," he chuckled.

Elena burst into a round of giggles herself, only to be brought back to earth by the gentle caresses of Damon's hands.

"What about you?" she asked softly.

"What about me?"

"Why didn't you get married?"

He thought about it. "I did briefly entertain the idea of getting married in the past few years, but the impulse had passed very quickly. To be honest, no woman had ever looked up at me and made me feel humbled and powerful at the same time—or ignited that desperate desire to prove that I could be more and better than who I'm. Except you."

"Hang on here," Elena said. "Are you telling me I'm the woman you used to set your so-called standard?"

"In a way, yes." He smiled. "I have been carrying the touch for you for the past ten years."

Joy reverberated through her. "You did?"

"I love you, Elena, and that is not going to change."

"Mmmm. I need breakfast and then I need you to take me back to bed." She could hear the wind kicking up again and she couldn't think of a better way to weather the storm than in Damon's arms.

"I am happy to do both, Your Highness."

She loved the playfulness, but the beauty of all that had happened swamped her. He was everything, this man. He loved her, was willing to protect her—there was no one else she would ever love.

"I have a question for you," she said.

He raised his brows. "Another one?"

"My father told me you volunteered to protect me. That you didn't hesitate."

He hesitated then, but he answered. "I did volunteer. I wasn't going to trust just anyone with your safety."

"Even knowing what it could cost you in other ways? What it could cost both of us?"

"Even then. No one will hurt you while I'm here, Elena. No one."

She grasped his hands in hers and left a kiss on his knuckles. "Thank you."

"You are my life, Elena. I will die before anyone hurts you. That is a promise."

Holding him close, Elena felt like she had everything she could ever want. She hoped he felt the same way.


	12. Chapter 12

Wrapped in Damon's arms hours later, Elena watched as the storm continued to rage outside the bedroom windows. They had made love, talked endlessly, and laughed until their sides hurt. They held each other because being together, after all this time, was so very right. Each minute she was with him was a reminder of how much Elena couldn't, and wouldn't, give him up. Forbidden or not.

Damon had flipped on the television in the room, looking for information about the storm, but she didn't want to think about any of it. It was severe and, in the distance, she could see the strong wind gushing, but here, in his bed, they were safe.

"Dammit. That weasel." The outburst got her attention because Damon rarely ever swore.

If she thought about it, she could probably count on her fingers the number of times he used profanity.

He had bolted upright in the bed and put the volume up on the television.

"Damon?"

"What the hell!" he snapped. Reaching for his phone on the night table, it was already ringing. "How did this happen? I don't give a damn that he claims he has rights. He has no rights as long as the princess is in danger."

On the program, she saw Luke, her secretary being interviewed by the news reporter.

Luke, who didn't ever want to talk to reporters because he deemed them "bloodsuckers", was having an interview.

"It is quite unfortunate what has happened to the royal family in Mystic Falls," Luke said.

"We have been told by more than one source," the reporter began, "that Crown Princess Elena has been put in protective custody in the United States. Is this true?"

"Is that what they call kidnapping here?" Luke's insinuation set off Damon's fierce temper.

He was still on the phone, barking orders with his eyes on the television screen. "The last I saw she was with some FBI agent who was an old boyfriend of hers. I think they were at Oxford at the same time. From what I understand, she left him."

"And you have decided to sound the alarm. You think he has taken her? Against her will?"

"Well," Luke exclaimed. "Someone has to let people know to look out for her? Princess," he called to the television camera, "I am loyal to you. I will make sure you are found."

The interview ended as they flashed a picture of Elena on the screen. Great. There were no words. She had no words because now there was real concern. The assassins could figure out where she was.

"Listen to me, Alaric," Damon was furious. She didn't think she would ever again see a man so angry. He had flown from the bed and was currently stalking the bedroom.

"I don't care if that troll claims he has diplomatic immunity. I wouldn't care if he was the goddamn Queen, I want him brought in. I want to know who he has talked to and for how long he has been talking. Right…uh huh…no, I do not care. Just do it."

"He should have gone home," she said plainly. "He had no business staying. Everyone was ordered home."

"He was supposed to go. We escorted your entourage to the airport hours before you and I left. Hours. He should have been gone when my Jeep pulled away from the hotel."

"Then what is he doing here, why…" She locked eyes with Damon. "He is trying to flush me out. Is he a member of the cause?"

Damon shook his head, shrugged; it was a series of indecisive movements. "They are doing a deep background check now. We are going to bring him in for questioning." Damon sat on the edge of the bed, not able to fathom what just happened. "He knew you were in danger—information reached your people before they boarded the plane. He knew it and he thought you were going to a safe house. And now, even if he is not involved, we are going to keep him in custody."

"If he isn't a member of the movement, he is a sympathizer." Elena rested her head on Damon's broad back. "He was my personal secretary. I thought he was a friend and confidant."

"What does he know, baby?" Damon asked.

"He knows everything," she responded.

"What does that encompass?"

Drawing a breath, she told him. "My calendar, phone book, email, my personal files."

"Jesus. And what did you tell him about us."

She looked thoughtful. "That is interesting," she said. "Because I didn't tell him anything about us. He knew I had someone in school, but that was all. I never told anyone about you, specifically."

"Someone knew?"

"Wes." Wes was her personal bodyguard. "And Caroline."

"Your lady's maid. Is there anything you can tell me?"

"Wes was born in Mystic Falls. His family has a long service with my family. Caroline is American, but I believe she has been in the country a long time." Elena's heart broke a little thinking that one of the two people whom she had trusted might have betrayed her.

Damon went to the dresser, pulled out a pair of jeans, donned them, and then pulled a long sleeve t-shirt over his head. After the clothes, he reached in another drawer, took out his pistol and after snapping in a full magazine, put it in his shoulder holster. She should have expected he would want his weapon, but seeing him like that—fierce, lethal—was sobering. It made the danger that much more real.

No doubt, Elena was glad he was armed, but the fact he needed to be, was terrifying.

Rising from the bed, she went to him. "What is going to happen?" she asked.

He looked down at her and kissed the top of her head in the most reassuring way possible. "I'm not sure, but we have to be ready."

x x x

Damon didn't like waiting. Especially when he needed information. Elena was dressed and curled into the corner of the couch in the family room looking like she had lost her best friend. As much as Damon didn't like Luke, and hadn't since the moment he met him, he appreciated that once again Elena felt betrayed by the people around her.

The secure phones were having trouble because of the storm, but amazingly he had just gotten through to her father. "Elena? How is the storm?"

"Sir, it is Damon Salvatore. We have a situation."

Damon explained what he could to Elena's father who planned to call his contact at the State Department as soon as he was able to speak to his daughter. Their conversation was brief, and the princess didn't say much after she got off the phone.

She needed comfort, but he was just too busy finding information to do much for her. He had to do his job. If he didn't and something happened to her, he would never forgive himself.

But unable to resist her pull, he sat next to her on the couch and extended his arms. Elena was in them immediately.

"I know you are working, and I shouldn't be so needy," she whispered.

He tucked her against him, adjusting his gun to stay out of the way. "You are afraid, it is understandable."

"I can't believe all the people we have trusted have betrayed us."

"I'm sure it's not all. But I understand."

"How?" She cleared her throat. "How am I supposed to trust anyone? Anyone?"

"You can trust me. You can always trust me."

Burrowing into him, they both jumped when a crash came from outside.

"Oh, my God." Elena jumped in her seat. "What happened?"

"Shh. The wind could have taken something down. It could have been a tree or some furniture may have broken loose in the wind. Don't panic." He didn't think for one second it was the wind. Whatever was happening outside, Damon was certain of one thing—there wasn't a chance in hell he was getting any reinforcements from the Archduke or otherwise.

Another noise. A truck door maybe.

"Elena, I need you to do exactly what I tell you."

"Because of the wind?" She kneeled up on the couch and faced him. "You are a terrible liar, Damon Salvatore."

"Exactly what I tell you," he said again. She was so damn stubborn.

"You are joking, aren't you? When have I ever done exactly as I'm told? It is not in my DNA."

He smiled in spite of himself. "True enough, but I want to check the perimeter and I need you in a secure location." She was going to hate this. "You have to lock yourself in the small bathroom around the corner."

"What?"

"Look, it has a locking door. There is only a tiny window for a vent, so no one can climb in. It is safe."

"It is a death-trap. If no one can climb in, that means I can't climb out. There is nowhere for me to go if I have to run."

Yeah, she was going to be difficult. Damon pinched the bridge of his nose. "Where do you want to hide?"

"Nowhere. I want to come with you."

He frowned. "That is not happening."

"Why not? I will get one of those big iron pots in the kitchen. That should pack a wallop."

"Elena," he grabbed her shoulders. He was tense. "Honey, you are not coming with me. I need to know you are safe."

"But…"

He laid a finger on her lips. Damon knew she was scared; so was he. But there was no way she was going out in the storm to face someone who probably wanted her dead. "The closet in your room. It locks and there is a window that leads out onto the garage roof. Take one of those iron pots, if you want, and hide in there."

Her lower lip trembled. Damon didn't know if she was upset or scared. He was guessing it was a little of both. "Come on, Elena. The longer I argue with you the more time whoever is out there has to make a plan. Please. I can't do my job until I know you are safe."

"Alright. Don't do anything foolish." She kissed him, sweetly, like everything between them was new. "And don't get hurt. I couldn't bear it."

"I won't. Here is the cell." He had shown her how to make emergency calls earlier; he just hoped she didn't have to. "You need to get yourself locked in."

"I love you, Damon."

"I love you, too. Now get moving."

Trotting off with a water bottle he had handed to her and the cell, Damon heard her climb the stairs and then close and lock the bedroom door. Hopefully, she stuck to the plan and went into the big closet. He hated having his emotions tied up like this, but he sure as hell wasn't going to go back to living without her in his life. She was everything to him and, one way or another, it would work out.

Opening the hall closet, Damon yanked an army green canvas duffle onto the wood floor and opened it. He pulled out a field jacket that would protect him from the weather a little, and his lucky baseball cap, which he put on backwards. There was an assault rifle in a locked cabinet, and he toyed with getting it, but he had three extra magazines for his Glock, so he didn't take out the rifle.

He did examine his combat knife and decided that wasn't a bad idea, so he tucked the sheath into the back of his jeans.


	13. Chapter 13

Damon was so damn pissed. They would have been fine if that blowhard of a secretary of hers hadn't opened his trap. Nobody knew where they were. Elena had been nicely anonymous.

But the best news he had gotten was that the authorities in Mystic Falls had shut down the main terrorist cell, and Homeland had stopped two suspected assassins from entering the country.

They were so close to ending this nonsense, but now because of one person, Elena was in more danger than anyone else.

There was a crash at the back of the house, glass breaking, and Damon kicked into gear.

From the corner of his eye, he could see two bodies in motion through the sidelights by the front door.

His bureau training would serve him well, but it was his special ops training that might possibly save them both.

He had to give the bastards credit. Timing this attack during a storm meant it would be that much harder for help to reach them. He didn't know how many people he was dealing with, and he only hoped Elena would be safe locked in the closet upstairs.

Not counting the subjects at the front door, he knew he had hostiles in the house, Damon didn't know how many, but was obviously outnumbered. He had to count on not only his wits, but his knowledge of his environment and his training to get him through. Mystic Falls, for all the things it did well, had a small army that did very little except appear in parades and to provide occasional protection to the royal family.

Damon was a combat-tested Army Ranger who had engaged in hand-to-hand combat with more than a few bad guys. Unless the rebels from Mystic Falls were ninjas, he should be able to handle the assassins sent for the princess.

Elena. Normally a calm man, Damon felt the rage bubble up inside him. He didn't care how much blood he had to shed, or how many dead bodies were left in his wake, Damon wasn't going to let anyone hurt Elena.

Not while he was still breathing.

According to the clock on the phone she was holding, Elena had been in the closet for only ten minutes when she heard voices. There were two or three, but she couldn't tell anything else. Not right away. Watching the rain come down, Elena was figuring out her best option. The roof was too wet, she would slide right off, and that was a lot different than easing her way down.

Not to mention, she didn't know who was outside. There may have been a couple of people in the house, but there was no guarantee there weren't more outside even with the storm raging.

There was banging at the bedroom door and eventually a crash which indicated they had broken in. Two voices. Luke definitely, and the other was Wes. Her bodyguard. This infiltration had gone as high as state security. No wonder all the plans were telegraphed. The question was, why hadn't he killed her sooner? He'd had more than enough opportunity, why wait? And where was Damon? What had happened to him?

"Elena," Wes called.

Traitor, Elena thought. The man was nothing but a two-faced bastard.

"There is no reason to hide, princess. You are safe now. We have a boat waiting to take you home."

A boat? To take her home to her landlocked country? More lies, and on top of that, they thought she was stupid. They were probably going to throw her overboard in the storm. She would drown for sure and they could say what a tragedy it was when they tried to rescue her.

There was a jiggling of the door handle, and Elena grasped the hockey stick that had been stored in the closet. Between that and the cleaning products she had found in a storage box, she was all set. They might try to take her, but she wasn't going anywhere without a fight.

"This is locked," Luke said.

"She must be in there. I checked the other rooms, the only thing I found next door were four empty condom wrappers. Once a whore, always a whore."

Elena cringed at the words.

There was a thud against the heavy door, then another and Elena flinched with each one.

Where was Damon? Was he dead? How had this happened?

Finally, after several more hits, Luke came flying into the closet. He turned to where she was crouched on the floor and came at her. His large, blue eyes were bulging and all Elena could think was that she had one chance to get the upper hand.

One chance.

She whipped the spray bottle of window cleaner from behind her back and sprayed it three times in his face. He screamed, but not nearly as much as when she rammed the butt end of the hockey stick right into his balls. He yowled and fell over, blocking the entrance just enough that Wes couldn't get at her easily.

Luke, the poor bastard, was clutching his crotch with one hand and his face with the other. He wasn't saying much because he couldn't really breathe.

"Your Highness, don't make this more difficult."

"You mean go to my death quietly? Are you insane? I'm going to make this as difficult for you as possible. You traitor."

"I am a patriot," Wes yelled at her. "And you are a spoiled, wicked bitch." Wes didn't know what Elena had done to Luke, so when her former bodyguard started into the closet, Elena sprayed him as well, quickly and at close range. He screamed loud enough that he drowned out the howling wind and recoiled as the chemicals in the cleaner burned his eyes and his nose. Kicking Luke in the crotch one more time for good measure, Elena left the closet with her now broken hockey stick ready to take on Wes. What she found was Wes crouched in a corner with Damon standing over him, his gun levelled at his head.

Elena was relieved to see Damon. "Damon, thank God. Oh, thank God. I thought when they got up here, you were dead."

"There are three more downstairs. They got to me first. I'm sorry."

"You handled three of them?" Would he ever stop surprising her? The man was a superhero.

"Eh, they were amateurs." He glanced in the closet at the retching, gasping Luke and smiled. "You did okay. For a princess, I mean."

The sound of several vehicles roaring in and stopping suddenly in the driveway made Elena grab her hockey stick again.

"FBI," someone yelled from downstairs. There were rushed footsteps, people racing up the stairs and loud voices. "Three in the kitchen. One looks DOA, a third is wrapped up with duct tape. Any sign of Salvatore? The princess?"

"We are in here!" Damon called out, and within seconds, three agents, their FBI jackets announcing their presence, were in the room, guns drawn. One took Damon's place guarding Wes, and another went into the closet to look over Luke. The third agent shook Damon's hand.

"Sorry we got here late. It is hell trying to get here in a tropical storm."

Elena only half heard what they were saying. Boys talking about shots fired and kills.

She was feeling nauseated, tired and dizzy…then everything went black.


	14. Chapter 14

"Elena," Damon's hand stroked her face. "Wake up, baby."

Her eyes opened and it wasn't just Damon she saw, but his friend, she thought Damon called him Alaric and a woman who was also wearing an FBI jacket.

Damon looked concern. "How are you feeling?"

Elena looked around and realized she was lying on the bed. That was not what she remembered. "What happened?"

He smiled. "You fainted."

She blinked. "Fainted? I don't faint."

"You sure did," Agent Alaric said. "Dropped like a stone. Probably the shock from the situation."

"Thank you for that description, sir." Manoeuvring herself into a sitting position, Damon kept her steady.

"I wish you were dead," Wes spat. "You and your whole family."

Without hesitation, Elena exploded. So much for being in shock. Lunging at her former bodyguard, Damon had to hold her back. "You are a traitor and a murderer," she snapped. "Once you get back to Mystic Falls, our laws will take care of you. You and your kind, Wes, will rot in prison."

The agents led Wes and Luke from the room, but Elena was still furious. "I can't wait to get home and watch them face justice. My brother died because of them."

"They got a lot to answer for." Damon pulled Elena close, but a shot of pain made him wince. "Damn."

"What? What's wrong?" She sat next to him on the bed, her hands trembling before she touched him. Not having time to stop her, Elena slowly tugged at the neck of his shirt and looked inside. He knew right away when she saw the knife wound because she lost her breath.

"It is just a scratch." He tried to reassure her.

"A scratch?" she gasped. "It is not a scratch." Shoving him back on the pillows made him grimace again. "Special Agent Alaric," she called out. "He has been stabbed."

"What happened, buddy?" Alaric asked.

Damon shrugged and the movement made his shoulder burn. "One of the guys in the kitchen had a knife."

"Ah, which one?" Alaric was a detail guy.

"The dead one."

Elena's eyes went wide. "Someone is dead?"

"One dead, one in serious condition, and one with an incredible need to unburden himself. We will be getting a lot of information out of that guy." Alaric was enjoying this way too much.

There was more commotion as paramedics arrived to look at Damon. People were getting around easier because the storm had blown through leaving some damage in its wake, but it hadn't been nearly as bad as it could have been. There was a lot of debate about whether they were going to load him in an arriving chopper to go to the hospital or if they could get a local doctor in to stitch him up and leave it at that. Damon didn't care too much what they would do as long as someone did something. It hurt like hell and it kept on bleeding.

"You should let them take you to hospital," Elena said. "I will be fine."

"I don't want to leave you. There are going to be a lot of questions."

She smiled at him. "I will handle it."

And she would.

Princess Elena had taken down two dangerous insurgents with a hockey stick and a bottle of window cleaner. She had kept her wits about her and had acted in a way he hoped his agents would act in a crisis.

She acted the way a leader should act in a crisis.

And her country needed that more than ever.

"I'm going to tell the truth, Damon," she said. "There is nothing hard about that."

He couldn't argue with her, but over the past few days he had learned that arguing with Elena was usually a pointless exercise.

She took both his hands in hers and he could feel her incredible spirit, her warmth, seep into him. "Please let them take care of you?"

Her eyes were clear, her voice steady. She was beautiful and confident, a living example of the word noble. There was no question about what he had to do. He had to go.

"You were amazing today," he whispered. "I love you. Never forget that."

"Elena," the deep voice from the doorway was the Ambassador from the Embassy of Mystic Falls whom he recently discovered was Elena's uncle.

Elena rose and hugged her uncle, made introductions, and by then, Damon was trying to focus on getting out of there. He had to get out before he broke and asked her to stay with him forever.

Mercifully, the medical helicopter had arrived.

She bent in to kiss him. This was one of those times when doing the right thing made you want to die. When he was with Elena his heart beat stronger, his purpose in life was clear, everything was right. The brush of her lips against his and the back of Elena's hand stroked his cheek. The tenderness of each touch broke his heart. She didn't know it yet, but they were over, and Damon hoped she didn't hate him too much when she realized they wouldn't be together.

Elena had things to do, important things, and Damon wasn't about to hold her back.

He would let her go.


	15. Chapter 15

It was going to be a memorable evening. Caroline stroke her scalp and diamond pins slid through lofty curls, yet through it all Elena stared unseeingly into the gilt-edged dressing table mirror before her.

She was supposed to be happy but she wasn't.

When she had first come home and settled back into her role, she was a very different person. That person was happy, optimistic, and looking forward to the future. She was in love. But now? The person she had become was heart-broken and sad. Still in love, but resigned to a life without it.

Which was why everyone was worried. Why Caroline checked on her constantly. Why her parents hovered. Unfortunately, there was nothing she could tell them.

Elena had no idea why Damon had cut her off without a word. They had been so happy and, with the threat to her family gone, she was free to think about a life with him - the life they talked about when they were shut in his house in Dunham Lake. The place where she found herself.

Now there was nothing, just a hole in her heart and questions that would never be answered.

"Elena." Her mother's serene face popped into view beside her. 'Where are you, I wonder?'

 _Thinking about my lover_. Elena winced inwardly as her cheeks rouged in the mirror and feathers of unease dusted her nape. "Oh, nowhere in particular."

Her mother arched one perfectly plucked brow, wholly unconvinced, and Elena almost smiled. She could read her mother now, especially when they were alone, making her realise that the Queen wore a mask of her very own.

"Pass me another pin, then, dear."

Elena reached for another pin, chose a pearl, and passed it over her shoulder. "Caroline can help me. Surely you don't have time."

"Nonsense. I will make time. How many days and nights of my life have I spent wishing I could be there for you?"

Elena closed her eyes, knowing it was time she listened to her own advice and let go of the past. "I didn't know you felt that way, Mama."

Her relationship with Miranda had been strained all these years and Elena knew the answer for it: Damon. Deep inside her heart, she knew her parents loved her and wanted the best for her.

"Let us start over—could we, Elena?' Her mother's warm fingers curled over her shoulder, squeezed through her dress. "I am opening the new children's wing next week and I was hoping you would come."

Elena looked up and saw warmth and hopes in her mother's gaze. "I would like that."

"Good. I will ask someone to arrange the security."

"Okay."

"Are you alright, honey?" her mother asked, as she slid alongside Elena to choose another pin from the gold tray. "You seem preoccupied."

"Hmm."

Her mother's brow creased, her eyes snapping up to Elena's. "Is something wrong?"

"No." She was lying.

"I'm your mother. I know you, Elena." Her mother heaved a theatrical sigh. "Shoulders straight, Elena. A hump is most unattractive."

Elena bolted upright. "I'm okay, Mama."

Miranda eyes narrowed on her face. "This is about Damon, isn't it? What is going on between you two?"

Elena's stomach plunged. Was she so obvious? "Nothing is going on, Mama."

"I am glad to hear it. The stakes are high. Think of your reputation. His work."

She couldn't give two stuffs about her reputation. She only cared about being with Damon. Somehow, she couldn't stop herself from defending for him. "He is a FBI agent. A very good one."

"You are a princess, darling. And soon you will be the Queen of Mystic Falls."

 _I have never wanted to become the Queen. I only want to be with Damon. I know as soon as I saw him again that I have never stopped loving him._

She was not telling her mother that. Her mother wouldn't understand.

"Count Matt will be here today," Miranda said with a smile. "He is hoping he could have some time with you."

Elena groaned. "Mama…"

"Give him a chance, sweetheart," Miranda continued. "I know you and Damon had history…"

"Mama, please." She heaved an exasperated sigh. "I really don't want to talk about this now."

Miranda ignored her. "If Damon really cares, he would have come after you. But he hasn't."

She felt her stomach tighten. She had a feeling her mother was right. Damon cared for her. He must.

"I'm not pressuring you, Elena," Miranda said, soothing now but firm. "But it is time you find a husband."

There was a brief silence.

"I will leave you now," Miranda said. "We will see you downstairs shortly."

Elena's heart sank. She didn't want to marry anyone except Damon. Damon loved her. He must. She didn't believe she had fallen for the wrong man. He was the right man she had been waiting all her life.

"Are you okay, Your Highness?" Caroline asked as she passed the diamond earrings to Elena.

She nodded. Tears glistened behind her eyes. How fragile this absurd condition called love was. One minute, your heart sand and you were talking about forever. The next, you might find yourself riddled with regrets.

Her heart was thumping as she stood at the top of the opulent sweeping staircase holding onto her father's arm.

 _Hold your head high, my lovely daughter._ Her father had told her.

Elena lifted her chin. Opened her eyes on a monstrously titanic room where every sinister eye looked upon her.

 _Be proud of the woman you have become._ Caroline told her before she left her room.

 _Where is Damon? I need him._

She took one step, then another, begging her feet not to fail her now. Down, down, down she went, gliding into the palatial, softly lit ballroom. The crowd hushed, her mind locked on Damon…the way he smiled at her, the way he teased her and the way he kissed her.

A pair of blue-grey smouldering eyes sought hers as soon as her feet hit the polished floor with a look of such intense pride she had to grip her father's arm not to fall.

Her heart filled, gushed, overflowed.

This from the man she had fallen deeply and irrevocably in love with.

"You and Damon need to talk," his father whispered to her. "Just remember, your mother and I want you to be happy."

She smiled at her father. "Thank you."

Damon stood in the midst of inane chatter, searching for the satisfaction of a mission accomplished. It was like digging for mines in the dark.

Statuesque, sanguine, Princess Elena Alessandro Gilbert had finally taken her rightful place as the future Queen of Mystic Falls. The sight of which Damon knew was his cue to leave. Yet his designer-clad feet were as if suctioned to the silver-toned marble as he hauled air into his tight lungs, clenched every hard muscle in his body until his bones ached.

That he had lasted one hour and thirty-three minutes without manhandling her out of the room was a miracle in itself. And what the hell was Miranda doing, throwing Count Matt at her every chance she got? He might be one of the most eligible bachelors in Mystic Falls but he didn't deserve Elena. And if the sleaze-bag danced with Elena one more time—if he looked at Elena one more time, stripping the tight sheath from her body with his marauding eyes—Damon would launch the man across the room.

Thrusting his fingers to his throat, he yanked at the stiff collar.

Dammit, surely her parents were not contemplating such a match? After everything Elena had been through? Damon closed his eyes, took a deep breath, infusing his brain with some sense. No, he was wrong, her parents wouldn't ask such a thing of her.

But seriously—Count Matt? The man was so much older than she was. How could he possibly protect her? Damon could do a better job with his eyes shut! And if her parents were serious about Count Matt she would be strangled by duty until the day she died. Damon had never considered happiness important. Until her. Until now.

On the far side of the room he saw Count Matt set his sights and begin walking towards her.

Excusing himself from the cluster of foreign dignitaries, Damon swerved through the crowd, eyes locked on Elena, his arms begging to pick her up, take her away. If he didn't feel so damn sick he would laugh at the irony.

She turned, as if sensing him, eyes filling with an instant of warmth before veiling, cooling—a look he did not care for.

"Good evening, Your Royal Highness," he said, with a formal nod. 'You look exquisite.'

"Thank you, Damon, you don't look too bad yourself.' She forced a smile and his stomach hollowed...then shot to the floor when Count Matt sidled up beside her and Elena offered the other man a sincere warm slide of her lips.

"This dance is mine," Damon growled. "Excuse us."

Damon slid a protective hand over the base of Elena's spine, curled his fingers up around her waist and felt her muscles stiffen beneath his touch.

"I have a better idea,' he said, tightening his fingers as they walked towards the dance floor—and took a swift unheeded side-step through the double doors leading on to the terrace beyond and the privacy of a star-studded sky. The chilly nip of the air did a miserable job of lowering his temperature.

"Are you sure this is such a good idea?" she asked, quickly sliding from his hold.

The loss of contact did abominable things to his mind-set. Damon closed the doors, drowning out the noise with a satisfying click, and swivelled back to face her, taking a good swift kick to the guts as he drank her in.

All glamorous sophistication, she stood by the wrought-iron railings, pearly teeth gnawing at her rouged lip, top-to-toe in gold satin which hugged and caressed every voluptuous curve. His palms itched to indulge. Stroke. Would the craving ever cease?

He balled his hands. "Elena…" he managed, before wondering what the hell to say.

The lines of strain eased from her brow as her mouth tilted knowingly. "Thank you for coming today. Without you, I won't be here this evening."

"You are very welcome," he said, still loath to admit, even to himself, why he hadn't come after her immediately he recovered from his injury. "It is my job anyway."

"Right."

There was a brief silence.

She dug her fingers into the rail. "Is there anything else you want to talk about?"

"Your parents must be so proud of you."

Elena frowned. _What the hell?_

"I'm so proud of the woman you have become," he continued. "Mystic Falls is lucky to have you as the Queen."

"I don't believe this," she said as she swung around to face him with her jaw clenched. "This is what you want to tell me?"

He was silent for a couple of heartbeats. Then snap went his resolve, his strength. One step forward and he reached out...and every muscle in his arms, every vein in his body, froze as she shook her head.

"Fine," she said bitterly. "I'm going back inside. Thank you for everything."

His head jerked. Thank you? For what...? The sex? He didn't come here for thank you. He couldn't just walk away and forget.

Like hell he would.

Damon dug his hand into the hair at her nape, yanked her head back and flung his mouth against hers. He muffled her shock with his lips and kissed her mouth while a noxious tangle of emotions knotted his guts. Plundering her mouth with his tongue, he curved his hands around the delicate span of her waist and crushed her against him.

A fist of anxiety clenched his heart when she stiffened...but then she wrapped her arms about his shoulders, thrust her fingers in his hair and tugged, giving as good as she got. The flush of relief turned to liquid fire as she blazed in his arms.

The crackle and hum of static energy surged between their bodies, bouncing from one point of contact to the other. They created enough electricity to power the eastern grid. He couldn't let her go. He needed...

A flash lit the sky. Then another. A slam. A door? Fireworks?

A gasp rent the air. Not his. Not hers.

Lips froze, still close, and Damon could taste her panting breath as it whispered across his tongue.

Thuds hit his temples as reality cracked through his skull, his entire body vibrating with the force of it.

Hands falling from her face, Damon took a step back, closed his eyes.

Plink. Plink. One light after another lit the sky. Cameras. Dammit, she would freak out, he thought.

Hands fisting into a violent clench, his eyes flew open. And locked onto her beautiful brown doe eyes.

Still here. Still standing tall. Regal. Brave. Courageous. After everything she had been through he could not, would not walk away from her now.

"I'm here this evening because I need to know if you will forgive me," he said, his voice dark, fierce, harder than ever before. "I can't let you marry that sleaze Count Matt."

Hope soared within her. Grimly she tamped it down, forcing herself to keep things in perspective. "Where have you been, Damon? How could you pretend we never happened?"

"I know I don't deserve to ask you for a thing. I turned my back on you and I don't know how you will ever forgive me, but…"

He was standing right in front of her, his eyes filled with unshed tears, and his words tearing at her heart.

"I love you, Elena." He took her hands in his and kissed each one. "I haven't been right since you left. I can't sleep, I can't think of anything except how I hate being without you."

"You know I love you, too," she said as she looked down at their joined hand. "I care so much about you."

Swarms of black locusts poured onto the patio—one brawny security man for every ravenous tabloid fiend.

"I'm an idiot. It is my only defence and I hope you will take pity on me. I thought I would drag you down, that your country needed you so much that there wasn't room for me."

"No room for you?"

'Tell me now. Tell me what you want," he said, his eyes swirling with a turbulent storm. "I will fight for you. I will never let you go again."

Her throat stung. Still he would fight for her. Her brave knight.

And best of all, he loved her.

"You," she said softly. "That's all I have ever wanted.

Damon smiled at her. "Very well." He wrapped his fingers around Elena's wrist. "Come on, let's go find your parents where we can discuss our private affairs in private."


	16. Chapter 16

Elena spent the longest, most agonising twenty minutes of her life pacing the living room in the private quarters of the Palace. The silvery moon cast eerie shadows over the oppressive grandeur, making her shiver. But this way, sans artificial light, she could keep one eye on the grandfather clock and sneak a peek at the security guards out front, their huge bodies looming over a member of the paparazzi.

Thankfully they'd only had a small audience on the terrace but...God, her parents must hate her for placing them in this position.

Damon smiled at her. "Let's face this together, okay?"

"You are serious about this?"

"Never been more serious in my life." He tightened his hand around hers. "I can't live without you."

A loud gong echoed off the oak-panelled walls like a death-knell and she stiffened her backbone, swept through the room, down the cavernous hallway to her mother's office. Palm flat, she pushed through the door, turned, closed it with a soft click and spun around to face her mother—sitting behind her wide desk in a high-backed brown leather chair, focusing her flinty gaze on Elena's face.

"Elena."

"Mama." She and Damon strode towards the desk. "Damon and I want to talk to you."

"Your Highness, Elena and I want your blessing," Damon said.

"Let's hear it," Miranda said, barely suppressed temper firing her cheeks.

Damon kept his cool. "I apologise for any embarrassment I have caused you tonight. Truly. But the fault is mine. I love your daughter and I want to ask you, beg you, to let her marry me."

"Mama, I love Damon," Elena said. "I want to have babies and a future with Damon."

Miranda looked thoughtful. "You cannot change who you are, Elena. Mystic Falls needs you. Damon has his work in Chicago…"

"I will give up my work for Elena," he said. "In a heartbeat."

Elena's eyes widened. "Damon…"

Miranda's brows hiked just a touch. 'You will give up your work?' she said, still disbelieving.

"Yes."

Elena shook her head. "No, no, no. I know you love me, Damon. But you don't have to give up your job for me. I mean, I appreciate the grand gesture but it is not necessary. Really."

"It is necessary."

Miranda's cool, flinty gaze narrowed imperceptibly. 'I am intrigued to know what would make you give up so much, Damon."

"I will do anything for the woman I love."

Her mother nodded slowly, her brows low over her eyes. "I see."

The stern lines of her face softened, to make her appear younger somehow. Elena blinked hard, wondering if the transformation was a mirage.

"I think I have a proposition for you, Damon," Miranda said.

Elena looked at her mother, hope rising. "A proposition?"

"There is a way around this. We need someone to lead the security service. Someone who is brave, smart and loyal to the royal family." Miranda looked at Damon. "Think you can handle it?"

Elena met Damon's eyes. He grinned. She felt the laughter bubble up inside.

"Damon is the best candidate we will ever have," she gasped between giggles. "I don't think we can find another candidate like him."

"Trust me," Miranda said. "I know what is best."

"Oh, Mama." Elena went to her mother's arms. "Thank you. Thank you so much."

"You are the Queen now, darling," Miranda said. "You need to get back to the party." She turned her attention to Damon. "I need to have a word with you, young man."

Five minutes later, Damon wasn't smiling; he was seated across from Miranda in her desk, getting his ass chewed out by the previous Queen.

"I cannot excuse or condone anything you did! Not one thing!" Miranda narrowed her eye. "If you were a citizen in Mystic Falls, I will make sure you are put behind bars. I'm tempted to do it anyway! You seduced her when she was with you; I know damned well you did! Do you deny it?"

"No," Damon admitted.

"But you know she would be the future Queen of Mystic Falls. You are after something, aren't you?"

"No." Damon shook his head. "I love her. I love your daughter."

Miranda almost smiled. "At least you aren't a liar. Are you aware that Count Matt is in love with her? He wants to marry her. He wants to start a family with her. He has asked for my blessing. He is a fine, decent man with principles. They could have a wonderful life together. Well, what do you say to that?"

In the midst of a blaze of jealousy, Damon suddenly realized that Miranda was merely using Count Matt as a means to force Damon to face his shortcomings as Elena's potential husband, and he was also skilfully and deliberately manoeuvring Damon into a position where he could either declare himself and lay his cards on the table or back off and go away. He wasn't going to let go of Elena this occasion. "What I have to say is this," he began, responding to the list of Count Matt qualities in the order Miranda had given them: "Count Matt may be a plaster saint, and he may be in love with her; but so am I. Furthermore, Elena loves me. I am not interested in any woman except Elena. Forever. I, too, want children, just as soon as Elena is willing. I will make whatever sacrifices for her are necessary. I cannot change the way I lived my life before now, I can only change the way I live it from this point on. If I can't have your blessing, I would at least like your reluctant acceptance."

Miranda crossed her arms across her chest, her gaze direct. "I trust you love my daughter. But she is the Queen and her reputation is very important."

"I know. What is it you expect me to do?"

"I expect you to behave like a gentleman, to make a few sacrifices. In short, I would expect the two of you to get married as soon as possible. But while we are preparing for the wedding," she finished implacably, "you should respect her. Spending the night with her isn't allowed. If you are willing to make all of these sacrifices, then, and only then, would I be willing to give my blessing. Am I making myself clear?"

Damon frowned. "Very."

Miranda saw the frown and pounced. "If those few sacrifices of personal convenience and your physical satisfaction are already too much for you to make, then—"

"I didn't say they were too much," Damon interrupted. "I will do whatever you want me to do as long as Elena and I can get married."

"Fine, Damon," she said. With a smile that was suddenly warm and even maternal, she said, "Then everything is settled."

x x x

Elena nestled impossibly closer, peppering kisses all over his gorgeous face. Damon had chosen her and it was as if the Philharmonic Orchestra was playing in her soul, making her blood sing, her body hum in ecstasy—alive, so vibrantly alive.

And because she knew he needed to hear it Elena said the words, over and over, as she kissed his warm lips. "I love you, Damon, only you."

His hands slipped from her face and he began to pull the pins from her hair. "I love you, Elena. But I don't think I should stay here with you tonight."

"Why?"

"It is a question of honour."

"Wait a minute…Mama is happy for us to be together…"

"You are the Queen. For your reputation, we should get married first."

"Oh." An inappropriate laugh burst past her lips. "So why are we getting married?" It was obvious, but she couldn't resist.

"Because I damn well say so!"

Oh, he was so fantastically fierce. She had a huge grin on her face, she knew. "You want me to be your wife?"

"Yes. Desperately."

"We are going to get married?"

"Yes. I can wait one week for you to arrange something."

"One week?"

"Only one. My heart cannot take any more." Her hair tumbled down around her shoulders and he groaned, thick and low. "I don't think I can keep my hands off you for more than one week."

Elena flung her arms around his neck, sank her fingers into his hair and breathed him in while her brain tripped. What else did she want? She was on a roll. She could have every little thing she had secretly dreamed of.

She sprang back. "Can we have a baby too?"

One corner of his sexy mouth quirked. "I want a baby girl with brown doe eyes and dark brown hair.'

Typical, then, that she wanted a boy with blue-grey eyes. "I don't think nature is going to listen to your rules, my darling."

"Of course it will."

She laughed. "God, I love you."

His hot gaze dropped to her chest. "I love this thing you are wearing, but I want it off."

"Pull the ribbons here," she said, running her fingertip provocatively from the dip at the base of her throat to her cleavage, to rest on a line of tiny bows trailing down the front.

One after another he pulled the ties free—colour slashing his cheekbones as he unwrapped her. And if she had thought he was hard beneath her already she had been oh-so-very-wrong.

"I thought you said it isn't a good idea that you stay here tonight," she said, breathy as she undulated against him. Heat flooded her core, soaking her skimpy panties.

A husky groan poured from his mouth. "We will break the rule tonight." The tight material gave way under the weight of her breasts, parting. "Elena, I need to be inside you."

Lifting her arms, she peeled the corset from her body and let it fall to the floor.

His hot, heavy eyes raked over her flushed skin, his feverish hands following in their wake. He cupped one of her breasts, taking all the weight from her shoulder, and she leaned forward, needing the crush of his talented fingers.

"Love me, Damon."

She licked her lips as he scraped his thumb over the tight peak, making her shudder.

"I love you, Elena. I will never let you go."

She caught his gaze, held it. "I used to dream of being kissed by my hero when I was a girl. I met my hero ten years ago. I have been looking for him ever since. Now I have found him again, and I'm not going to let him go. You will always be my hero, Damon."

He grinned one of those gooey bad-boy smiles that made everything hot and wet, gripped the strip of lace around the top of her thighs and tore her panties clean off. "I adore your dreams, sweetheart."

"Oh, I have tons more," she said, sheathing him. Loving him.

He curled his hand around her nape, pulled her down to his mouth and murmured against her lips, "And I shall make every one come true."

Then he kissed her. Her hero.


	17. Epilogue

_One month later…_

At one o'clock in the afternoon, the cathedral bells pealed, chiming glorious sounds through the streets of the town centre of Mystic Falls.

 _Tell the whole world! Queen Elena Alessandro Gilbert has married ex-FBI agent Damon Salvatore. And next month, after the honeymoon, Damon Salvatore would step up as the Chief of Security, Safety and Security Network of Mystic Falls._

As she walked the long aisle of St. John's nave with Damon in a fitted white gown wearing the stunning diamond tiara and jewels, Elena never felt more like a queen.

Love had a way of crowning every woman's heart.

Damon whispered, "Happy?"

"More than."

Emerging from the church into the October sunshine, she and Damon stepped into the thunderous cheers and shouts of the people in Mystic Falls.

"I can barely hear myself think," she shouted towards him, waving to the crowd, leaning against her man.

At the bottom of the steps, Elena caught the eye of Mystic Falls' Prime Minister Richard Lockwood, without his pipe between his teeth, looking dapper in a top hat and tails.

"Elena, look." Damon pointed to the old aeroplane flying over, releasing a rainbow shower of confetti.

The throng oohed and aahed, trying to collect the colourful paper marked with Queen's Elena cipher and the wedding date.

Moments later, another plane passed over, waving its wings and followed by the raucous, stupendous roar of United States F18s flying in formation. A gift to Her Royal Highness from the United States on her wedding day.

Elena tipped back her head, letting loose her own rebel yell. Such a thrilling sight and sound.

"That is fantastic," she yelled.

A row of trumpeters in red knee pants, braided blue coats, and tri-fold hats raised their instruments and blasted a royal declaration.

Taking hold of her hand, Damon ran Elena down the steps towards their waiting carriage. But when the security team parted, she found a gleaming red, restored Starfire #89 pulling the carriage instead of matched white horses.

And their chauffeur? Zach, standing by the car in his Marine uniform, straight and proud.

"Uncle Zach!" Forgetting decorum, Elena broke from Damon and ran into the man's embrace. "You came, you came."

"Ha-ha, my girl, you done good. I hated lying, telling you I couldn't come, but we wanted to surprise you."

Today was full of joy. And for tears.

Damon grinned at her. "We surprised you, Elena."

"You sure did, Damon."

Stefan and his fiancée Valarie beamed standing next to Zach.

Stefan smiled at Damon. "Congratulation, brother."

Damon smiled back. "Thanks. I'm glad you can make it, brother."

"We won't miss your wedding."

"This is unbelievable." Elena stepped back to inspect the car while the bridesmaid gathered the hem of her gown to keep it from dragging on the ground. "Does it run?"

"Girl, don't be talking smack to me when I came all the way over here to drive you on your wedding day." Chuckling, Zach motioned to Damon. "It was his idea to use the car. He made sure we got it done on time. Helped us find parts, experts, labour, you name it."

"Happy wedding day." Damon slipped his arm around her, kissing her cheek.

"This is the best day ever!" She shot her arms in the air over her head.

Damon helped Elena into the carriage as Zach fired up the Starfire #89. The engine rumbled as the ancient car moved through the cheering crowd, the noise level rising and rising, never letting up.

Photographers raced alongside of the carriage, aiming to capture the photo of the century—a royal wedding.

Elena slipped her hand into Damon's. "Thank you for all of this, Mr Salvatore."

"Couldn't have done it without you, Mrs Salvatore." He slipped his arm around her and lowered his lips to hers, kissing her long and sweet.

Damon was her love story, her happily ever after.

And she was his.

Because that's how a good fairy tale should always end for a princess.

 _THE END_

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 **I hope all of you have enjoyed this Delena royal tale. I'm sorry it is not a long story but I have thoroughly enjoyed writing it. Hopefully I have managed to bring out the dynamics and chemistry of Delena again in this adorable love story. Really appreciate the support and kind words so far.  
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 **Continue to watch the space - there will be more interesting Delena stories coming!**


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